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Ahem. For Patches.
Patches, Patches, wherefore art thou Patches?
Deny thy death, and refuse thy afterlife,
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my cat
And I'll forever more be a necro.
What is in a life?
It is not paw, nor tail, nor ear, nor fur,
Nor any other part belonging to the living.
That which we call alive
By any other incarnation would smell as sweet (or not)
Therefore Patches, were he not alive
Would retain that dear aroma which he owes.
(with my deepest apologies to W.S.)
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