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Number Nine’s on the table. Again. What can I say? He’s adorable. Could you move that face?
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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5:11
pm
Number Nine looks just like one of the kittens out of a surprise litter we had back in Virginia almost 2 years ago now.
Her name was Dozer – she was the oldest & loved to push the others around.
Pet the little booger for me!
Much love from an oversease Army wife,
Jennifer