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Inside a sunny Michigan foyer, Mabel sits in an open pet carrier on the hardwood floor, wide-eyed. Grandpa stands behind her smiling while Grandma kneels stroking Mabel’s white chest.
Mabel peered from her carrier. "I miss Dad and Minnesota," she meowed. "Welcome to Michigan," Grandpa said. Grandma stroked her white chest. Max, with a white chin, blinked. Jake wagged.
In a lamplit living room, Mabel and Max face each other beside a pair of wooden chairs, noses almost touching, tails high. Jake stands a step away, black ears perked and head tilted.
Mabel gasped, "Max? I thought I'd left you!" "Surprise," purred Max. Jake trotted over; Max's striped orange tail swished. "Gentle, buddy," Grandpa warned. They sniffed, then zoomed around chairs, tails high.
Morning sunlight pours through a big bay window in the kitchen; Mabel balances on a cushioned perch, paw tapping her own reflection while watching squirrels outside. Jake sits on the tiled floor and Max lounges nearby, both gazing upward.
Grandpa set a sunny perch. "Squirrels!" Mabel chirped, tapping her gray-and-black tabby reflection and small black nose. Birds fluttered past. Jake, a black-marked Jack Russell, sat. "Michigan's nice," Max purred.
Under a bright afternoon sun on the backyard patio, Grandpa crouches holding Mabel as she rubs her cheek against warm concrete, eyes half-closed. Nearby, Grandma extends a treat toward her, small packet in hand.
Grandpa carried Mabel outside to rub on warm concrete. "Scritch, scritch," she purred, whiskers quivering. Grandma offered treats, and Mabel's belly felt pudgier. "I still miss Dad, but I'm happy here."