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There was a mouse to play with, but the cat was not so young anymore, and the sunbeam was wide and warm, and the mouse was a fighter, fierce the way they had not been when she was a kitten.

She lay down, just for a short nap.

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The mouse considered biting the cat, but she was ancient, had been ancient as long as mouse generations could remember. Instead, he left quietly, but not before twitching the curtain open wider, to allow more sun to brush over the cat’s bony flank.

There would be another time for the hunt.

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