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May 15, 2007
As he leaned back, he hit the ceramic black panther with the edge of his shoe. He watched it arch off the coffee table, paws over head, itís tale tucked tight to shin, mouth open to painted tongue with fangs gently bared as though to say he would rather not. But he did. And made contact. Tink. A forepaw disengaged and rotated under the sofa, one ear chipped, white inside exposed. The man gasped and scrambled to reach the paw, palm smacking the wood floor, feeling crumbs and hair. He picked up the panther and positioned it, hoping to hide.