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"Jeez, House! Do you want me to have a heart attack?"


"What is that thing doing on the coffee table?"

"Eating breakfast."

"I can see that. Why isn't it in the cage?"

"He gets bored."

"Then let it go!"

"Wilson, there's two feet of snow on the ground. I can't just toss him out there."

"Well then put him in there with his brother."

"Steve doesn't like Whiskey. And Steve is a rat. Whiskey is a marsupial. No relation."

"I can't believe you named that thing. Either one of them. And where is Death Cat?"

"She's in the bedroom. And don't call her that. She's sensitive."

"She's psychotic!"

"You're just pissed because she wouldn't take any crap from Hector."

"She traumatized him!"

"Oh please! He's a terrier. She's just a pussy cat. He was faking it."

"He hid under the bed for two hours."

"Because he was dissecting my shoe!"

"Well you gave it to him!"

"It was an old one."

"He was still shaking when Bonnie came to take him home."

"She has that effect on guys, I hear . . ."

"Are you going to put that thing away any time soon, or should I just get a hotel room until spring?"

"As soon as he finishes his spaghetti. And he's completely harmless."

"That's what you said about Steve. Right before he took a chunk out of my finger."

"You shouldn't have stuck it in his face like that. Steve has issues. Hard life, lots of baggage."

Wilson stomped off to take a shower, sincerely hoping no panhandling pigeons or misunderstood skunks appeared at their door anytime soon.

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