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July 22, 2009
The cold-hot hand of dread grips the back of my neck when an odd meow-growl enters the room behind me before its host, Shana, joins it, tiptoe-lumbering with what sounds like a bit less pep in her step than usual. As I swivel around to face her, a flash of peripheral vision terrifies me into thinking her mouth is frothy with rabies. Head-on, the rabies-froth is really a bird. Shana's meow-growl is muffled by its still body.

"What the fuck! No! No! No!" I shriek, jumping up from my chair so fast it almost ricochets off the walls.

Continued 7/23