Whorehouse Cat

This is my dear friend Luna, relaxing in her cafe after a long day of sleeping and collecting head-scratches from the patrons. On the threadbare red sofa, I imagine this image as a glossy print tucked into a letter home from a soldier during WW2.

Penciled on the reverse: "Whorehouse Cat --Paris --After The Battle"

I wish I could adopt Luna. She's very old and sometimes she gets locked out at night by accident. The word is out, but most people who would like to take her are, like me, already catted to capacity.