The Rescuees are going to the adoption center Friday morning. They’ll all be together in a big cage, so they can relax for the day before adoption hours begin Friday evening and they have to put on the cute. Wouldn’t it be great if they were all adopted Friday night? I’m not going to count on it – but I can certainly hope for it, can’t I?
Oh, her little bitty face KILLS me.
Reacher, there in the cat bed, all stretched out, cracks me up. He must be six feet long from nose-tip to tail-end. He’s like Gumby, he just keeps stretching!
(Hmm. I wonder if “Gumby” and “Poky” have been used by the shelter as cat names yet?)
Tiny little Lieu (aka “Lieu-Lieu”, also “Lieuby-Lieu”), curled up in a tiny little Lieu package.
“I’m gonna jump!”
“I’m not kidding, lady! I’m gonna jump!” (And he did. But he survived the jump, worry not.)
“I was sleepin’, and then I woke up with this cute little redhead in my bed. How much ‘nip DID I sniff last night?!”
The sweet face, did I mention? KILLS ME DEAD.
Reacher: “Pardon me, sonny, you’re in MY bed.”
Lieu: “::SQUEAK:: I’m sorry, sir!”
Reacher: “Don’t let it happen again.”
“He was skeery.”
“Oh, I love it when you blow in my ear, it’s so – Uh.”
“Rhyme. ::tap::tap::tap:: Rhyme? Rhyme. RHYME!”
“We have company, Rhyme.”
::BLISS::
Tommy guards the back yard.
Previously
2009: The shit that is PISSING ME OFF these days.
2008: I’ve warned Nance that the house is a pig sty, but I don’t think she believes me.
2007: No entry.
2006: Must be ’cause I’m so approachable.
2005: Hobbies.
2004: Fred calls Miz Poo “Musty.”
2003: He sighed. “Because everybody knows that 256 (the total number of pages in the book) is 2 to the 8th, which is 2 to the 6th times two squared, which is 64 times 4, so you should print four blocks of 64 pages.”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Folks, it’s Dumbass Day.