You know that sad and sullen voodoo doll I bought in New Orleans during Spring Break? Well, he's gone, baby, gone and I'm oh so sad. He'd already looked as though he'd seen enough.
Of course, you know who I am blaming: our cat, Cinnamon. He's got a record. Remember when he attacked my Thor? I'd found Thor's hammer behind the couch -- surrounded by cat fur, no less. And now Cinnamon's getting bolder. Look at this:
My other voodoo dolls are worried, too -- at least the ones with feathers. To be safe, I put them in my desk drawer. Just to make them comfy, I covered them with an old cleansing cloth for glasses. I think they appreciated that.
I'm on to you, Cinnamon. Watch out.