When I got home from work, Panky was rolling across the couch with his shoes on, Buckwheat demanded I unwrap her toothbrush, the kitten was huddled in the kitchen, the other cats shivered in the attic and Miss Sasha was holding the dog. I don’t have a dog. The TV was on. South Indian food was spread out across the table. So I unwrapped the toothbrush and told the kitten I was doubling her allowance.
The food pantry was shopping for freezers and I volunteered to do the footwork. At the same time, putting weight on my right leg at all became painful, so my new theme song has been anything in my vocal range with all lyrics replaced by breathy, “Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.” It sounds remarkably festive and smutty with Christmas carols, but my claim to fame is belting out Wham! hits in hardware aisles all across Central Jersey. Tonight, I turned in my shopping results and put my feet up.
During our Christmas Day Walkabout, Pete photographed this ruin and walked home with me.
I’m almost ready for my next act.
Mama Mama Mama open a can of treats open a can of treats open a can of treats I want that I want that I want that. Don’t tell my sisters! Mine mine mine!
Poor Impulse Control 