It was the wrong color and marking for a raccoon. Since the cameras were black and white. I wasn't sure of the color, but I was damn sure the it was a...cat. I couldn't tell if it were a house cat or a feral cat. It was for sure a cat though.I had no desire to have my eyes scratched out by either, so I racked a shell into the Mossberg 12 gauge riot shotgun. The Mossberg was the one I kept at home. The antique Winchester riot gun stayed in the safe room of the office, most of the time.I opened the. He was sleeping heavily, his mouth open and emitting soft but coarse sounds that bordered on snoring. Davie smiled as she watched her father reposing on the big bed. She looked over at him with pride, thinking how peaceful he seemed, how handsome he was. His chest was broad and hairy; his muscles were well developed. He was a very masculine man.She thought she could get her things and tiptoe quietly past him without awakening him, so she gathered her shampoo and creme rinse and took another. More

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