housework, if it is done right, can kill you

[Attila Aston]

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http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c13/vazzi/bottom.png); background-position:bottom; background-repeat:no-repeat;"> -- The pale cream boy was just wondering, trying not to trip on the scarf coiled in his neck that was being dragged on the ground, wrapping on his feet. He had found it (or stolen it) in an abandoned den (or not). It was a long, piece of clothe, with white and yellow stripes, and it was like a tube. He tryed to use it as a sock, putting his leg inside the hole,but it was way too long for his shorty limbs. Looking for someone to cut it in smaller parts, something he couldn't do yet, the white-spotted boy used it as a scarf. He was trying to find a decent den where he could move to, like his sisters and brother were trying to do. But, instead of waisting his time digging one, he would go after an old one. When he was starting to give up, his blueish-silver eyes met a recent hole on the ground. He smiled and ran to it, but his smile faded as he saw that there was someone near it, with the paws full of dirt. He was disappointed, of course, but not so much. At least, he could get some help with the scarf-sock. "Hello?" he greeted, with an question tone. "Would you help me?" he asked, uncoiling the cloth from his neck, in a suggestive way. He tilted his head as the scent of the stranger reached on his nose. It seemed so familiar, so did the pelt. It reminded him of his mother.

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