Gabe hoping against hope it will be warm enough for the patio door to be opened (they won’t stay outside if the door is closed because, I don’t know, cats?) As long as they stay in the backyard and come when I call, they will continue to have backyard privileges. Just not when it’s 30 degrees out.
It only took two years and two weeks of patient nudging for Emma to let Gabe sleep next to her. He wasn’t going to give up until she relented.
I feel like you deserve some bonus pets:
Gabe is stretched from Bixby (see his back feet are pressed against Bixby’s butt) all the way to the corner…which is WHERE I SIT. Nope, not today. Zander is snoozing away, oblivious to the ongoing battle.
I thought you might like to see a full-sized Scout. She can reach the top of our 6′ fence now. It’s scheduled to be replaced in the next year and I’m thinking I’m going for an 8′ one as a replacement. Continue reading
Gabe making sure the garden is safe for the ducks. Ever vigilant.
My morning meeting asked to delay till afternoon, so I took advantage of the extra time to put a coat of paint on my dresser, then jump in the shower to scrub off the paint. When I came out, this is what I found:
It was almost dry, so the prints are very clear. I decided to leave them. The dresser is almost 100 years old, with a not so great finish (did my best decades ago, but it was always so-so, which made paint the best solution this time), so two cute little pawprints seemed fitting.
But who did it? The cats were nowhere to be found and I needed to get to my meeting. I was sure there would be tell-tale prints on the floor leading to the culprit, but nope.
It would have to wait until I returned and I had to hope I wouldn’t be greeted with white pawprint all over the house.
Finally, after examining everyone’s paws, the culprit was found: