No decision has been made and he probably still smells like a sweaty 10 year old.
The phrase “lick me in a decorative fashion” is stuck in my head and it’s not a phrase you can exorcise by saying it out loud like you can get rid of an annoying song in your head by passing it to someone else.
He is wrangled in his cage for the night. The act of getting him in the damn thing was made as pleasant an experience as I could make it because he’s supposed to love the cage. It’s supposed to be his secret happy place. If you could hear him now you’d think his secret happy place was walled with spikes and was on fire and was electrified and he was very, very, very lonely.