This time last year we had snow on the ground. It's gone cold here in the last day or so, but it's a drab, wet and windy kind of cold. The sort we're used to. Snow at Christmas is a relative rarity.
I thought I'd scrap this picture from this time last year. The cat clearly does not appreciate my need to document the minutiae of everyday life. The cat clearly wishes I would put the camera down AND JUST OPEN. THE FRICKIN. DOOR. Do not feel sorry for her. We are locked in an constant battle of wits, me and that cat.
Incidentally, here are some names I have for the cat, whose name is Heather.
Heather Bear
Heatherington Bearbatron (or simply "Bearbatron", on account of the odd robotic beeping noises she makes)
Smelly/Smellington Bear
The Smelly Ballerina
Pusstina Smellybeara (after we lined her litter tray with a picture of Christina Aguilera. Who, incidentally, I have nothing against)
Kittymittens
Twinkle Fancypants
Hairy fairy
The cat does not smell. I feel, in fairness to her, that I should point this fact out.
Also, I have a voice for Heather WHICH IS TOTALLY NORMAL, AND NOT AT ALL STRANGE. That voice is Hartley Hare, from Pipkins. She sounds like him and she thinks a lot like him.
2 comments:
I really love this page... love the all white embellishments.
My sister in law and I were discussing your blog of 2009 with much guffawing and sighing. (neither of us could remember the blog address - then - lo!) Oh, how I have missed the annual pithiness. Welcome, welcome my friend.
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