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Of all the cat anthologies in the world, you had to crack into this one. This is an exciting volume of stories that feature my kind. Of course, I have a name you couldn't pronounce, but you can call me Meow Minx. Hey-if the shoe fits, wear it! I'm the descendant of royalty. Ever take a look at some of those hieroglyphics from ancient Egyptian pyramids? Yeah, cats have been running stuff forever, and we let you silly humans think you're running the show. It's cute that you think that, but you're useful to us, so we'll allow you to spool out your fantasy, at least for a moment. If you think I've…mehr

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Of all the cat anthologies in the world, you had to crack into this one. This is an exciting volume of stories that feature my kind. Of course, I have a name you couldn't pronounce, but you can call me Meow Minx. Hey-if the shoe fits, wear it! I'm the descendant of royalty. Ever take a look at some of those hieroglyphics from ancient Egyptian pyramids? Yeah, cats have been running stuff forever, and we let you silly humans think you're running the show. It's cute that you think that, but you're useful to us, so we'll allow you to spool out your fantasy, at least for a moment. If you think I've got some good game, wait until you hear about my feline friends in these stories-they've got the game down pat. Sure, Raconteur Press could have served you up a dish of straightforward noir with dames and detectives, but the true spirit of pulp noir is in perfect alignment with the walking contradiction that is the felis catus, be she domesticated or utterly untamed.
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