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OK, I'm starting to take this personally. When I even pick up my banjo, Charlie the cat -- MY cat, whom I personally brought home from the shelter -- leaves the room. Immediately. Doesn't look back, just goes. So I'd really like to know why, when Susan picked up the banjo one morning and gave it a few strums, Charlie just sat there happily on the couch. "Oh look, Mom's playing the banjo, that's nice." I'm going to take up the fiddle. Then they'll all be sorry. That'll fix 'em.
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