I dabbed it with a warm, soft cloth each morning. She leaned into the pressure—just for a second—then flicked her tail and walked away, offended by my concern.
Sometimes I think she’s fine. Sometimes I think her body just found a small, harmless way to look like it remembers every loss I’ve ever told her about. cat clogged tear duct
Miso sat on the arm of the sofa, one eye gleaming clear and sharp, the other weeping a slow, rusty tear. It wasn’t sadness. Cats don’t cry for reasons we understand. This was plumbing—a tiny, clogged duct somewhere behind her tortoiseshell mask. I dabbed it with a warm, soft cloth each morning
Here’s a short piece based on the phrase “cat clogged tear duct”: I dabbed it with a warm