The sound told him more than he wanted to know. Kitten was feeding them once more, but he had to ask: “Are you taking pity on those damned strays again?”
His voice was ripe with frustration, so Kitten ignored his query. Instead she reached into their kitchen’s junk drawer and picking out two batteries, she walked to the back door.
Opening it and without a word, she handed the obviously outdated robot the batteries. It beeped, moving away as Kitten quietly closed the door.
“Yes,” she finally responded.
“I ought to call the Recyclers.”
“Then what?” the Sex Kitten 2030 beeped.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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