Patron Feline Saint of Bacon

Today, after I finished frying up the bacon, I poured the fat into a cup and secured it in the fridge.  A soft paw patted at my knee.  Oliver looked up at me with a rapt feline gaze.

I used my thumb to swipe up a spill of grease from the countertop and offered it to him.  He rasped it clean.

“You are a goddess.”  He said to me with his eyes and whiskers.

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