That moment when you have to poke the cat to check if it’s still alive…
And yesterday, while a big black (geriatric) lab was just on the ground beside the sofa:
The beaver is a proud and noble animal
Notes from a bemused canuck
That moment when you have to poke the cat to check if it’s still alive…
And yesterday, while a big black (geriatric) lab was just on the ground beside the sofa:
Pavel is just… wrong. I’ve never seen a cat so less concerned about sleeping on his back, splayed open to the world. He also has a habit of falling off the side of the sofa arm and being eaten by a pile of cushions. Tolstoy likes to wedge himself between my pillows and my bedside table, or just folds up like an accordion. Reenpig is generally a hot mess.
They’re all defective, but we love them.
A sparrow thumped into our patio door while two of our useless lumps were sunning themselves on the balcony. For the time it took me to walk from the living room to the balcony, both cats were just sitting there, looking at the poor confused bird. At one point, Tolstoy tried to attempt to poke it but stopped short of actually touching it.
Mighty hunters indeed. We shooed them inside and closed the door so that the bird could come to its senses in its own time. The cats became much braver, confident and vocal when they were behind the safety of the closed patio door.