Unlike cats themselves who are quite habitual, (non-) commenters are fickle. One week they like cats, the next week it’s cars, it’s hard to keep up. I think mab has gone to her dacha, though.
All this pretty-kitty stuff is fine for the adults, but it’s spoiling Muntz. Where in the world did that dandyish sock come from, with an orange ring around the toes? No wonder he bites your feet. Look at his translucent, impressionable gaze in the last picture. Do you really want him to become an effete, impudent snob?
Has his finding father taken him fishing yet? Where is his baseball glove? Does he get The Count of Monte Christo read to him at bedtime?
Mab is now more or less at the dacha, having supervised the entire wrapping and packing of every thing in my apartment. It all went into storage, much to the entertainment of my neighbors (they’d never seen a couch wrapped in cardboard and tape). Now I have three times more stuff out here at the dacha than I have room for. Ugh. It’s going to be a rough week of shoving and stuffing. But the magical wireless modem works and the cats are happy. That’s the important thing.
Very, very funny. Though the socks, I should say, were a present from Robin’s grandmother: only a true dandy would be ashamed of them. In spite of all the poetry and foie gras, I still warrant there isn’t much risk of growing up an effete snob in my home.
He’s beautiful
Muntz sure is cute.
Thank you. And thank you. Though you’ve both lost your chance — we’re keeping him.
What, no Muntz love? Watch out, fickle non-commenters, he will bite your feet.
Thanks, Hat! Muntz needs an advocate while his parents are out celebrating his mother’s birthday! (The 9th.)
Speaking of birthdays, I do believe I won’t be early wishing our host a most happy one right now! (It’s the 8th in Norway by now, no?)
In view of “uneasy lies the head that’s worn by Crown”, and “he who makes his bed must lie upon it”, I wish you a comfy mattress for the coming year. Happy berthday!
A quick happy birthday before my computer fails completely….I just had the two worst substitute teaching shifts ever, and now the computer is flaking out.
but it’s still your birthday here in
Chicago and there is a huge orange moon, almost full, hanging over the southwest horizon. A Happy birthday and I will toast you in something nice–I think I have some Czech Urquell, something like that–once I get home.
Many happy returns! Sorry I missed the actual day. So was that it for your birthday meal, tea and toast? Or are you celebrating later on? Any cake? Enquiring minds want to know.
My daughter took me riding during the afternoon and then we made ourselves a cheese soufflé (my wife being out of town for three days). Then we had strawberries and cream (I always have that). Then we had a good amount of BELGIAN-chocolate ice cream.
I’ve been meaning to say something about Muntz, but there’s the moving and the computer problems and now I have to write a speech for my parents’ 60th anniversary this weekend.
Muntz, yes, the chicken bone photo is a good shot for displaying character. Cute is fine, but too often terminally cute turns into terminally manipulative. We all know cats only let us stay in their houses on personal whim, but there’s no point in rubbing our noses in it.
Don’t let Grumbley talk you out of the sock photo. There’s nothing wrong with it. It shows the eternal struggle between dark and light, matter and anti-matter, and shows Muntz is ready to fight for truth, justice, and the American Way.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through this speech. When Dad gave the Christmas dinner table prayer (he was diagnosed right before Christmas), he said something about enjoying the time that was left, and then couldn’t go on. Everybody just lost it, except the grandkids. I’m supposed to talk for two minutes. I wasn’t around yet when they were married so I suppose I should talk about stuff like all the snakes and turtles and foreign exchange students we brought home and were allowed to keep.
A Bad Guide
What, no Muntz love? Watch out, fickle non-commenters, he will bite your feet.
Unlike cats themselves who are quite habitual, (non-) commenters are fickle. One week they like cats, the next week it’s cars, it’s hard to keep up. I think mab has gone to her dacha, though.
All this pretty-kitty stuff is fine for the adults, but it’s spoiling Muntz. Where in the world did that dandyish sock come from, with an orange ring around the toes? No wonder he bites your feet. Look at his translucent, impressionable gaze in the last picture. Do you really want him to become an effete, impudent snob?
Has his finding father taken him fishing yet? Where is his baseball glove? Does he get The Count of Monte Christo read to him at bedtime?
He’s beautiful. And he looks very wise for his years in the last photo.
Fishing, schmishing. I want to see blood. Is this not a carnivore?
Mab is now more or less at the dacha, having supervised the entire wrapping and packing of every thing in my apartment. It all went into storage, much to the entertainment of my neighbors (they’d never seen a couch wrapped in cardboard and tape). Now I have three times more stuff out here at the dacha than I have room for. Ugh. It’s going to be a rough week of shoving and stuffing. But the magical wireless modem works and the cats are happy. That’s the important thing.
Muntz sure is cute.
Fishing, schmishing. I want to see blood. Is this not a carnivore?
Here’s your blood.
No wonder he bites your feet.
Very, very funny. Though the socks, I should say, were a present from Robin’s grandmother: only a true dandy would be ashamed of them. In spite of all the poetry and foie gras, I still warrant there isn’t much risk of growing up an effete snob in my home.
He’s beautiful
Muntz sure is cute.
Thank you. And thank you. Though you’ve both lost your chance — we’re keeping him.
What, no Muntz love? Watch out, fickle non-commenters, he will bite your feet.
Thanks, Hat! Muntz needs an advocate while his parents are out celebrating his mother’s birthday! (The 9th.)
Speaking of birthdays, I do believe I won’t be early wishing our host a most happy one right now! (It’s the 8th in Norway by now, no?)
Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Crown!
I join Papa Muntz in sending the most felicitous of birthday felicitations.
Thank you both, you’re very kind.
So it’s true?
What is truth?
In view of “uneasy lies the head that’s worn by Crown”, and “he who makes his bed must lie upon it”, I wish you a comfy mattress for the coming year. Happy berthday!
I agree.
Thanks, a lot can happen. I didn’t really know any of you this time last year.
And who knows what will have happened before 8th June 2010…
Were you given the same kind of treat as the goats not long ago?
A quick happy birthday before my computer fails completely….I just had the two worst substitute teaching shifts ever, and now the computer is flaking out.
but it’s still your birthday here in
Chicago and there is a huge orange moon, almost full, hanging over the southwest horizon. A Happy birthday and I will toast you in something nice–I think I have some Czech Urquell, something like that–once I get home.
Many happy returns! Sorry I missed the actual day. So was that it for your birthday meal, tea and toast? Or are you celebrating later on? Any cake? Enquiring minds want to know.
Thanks, Nij.
My daughter took me riding during the afternoon and then we made ourselves a cheese soufflé (my wife being out of town for three days). Then we had strawberries and cream (I always have that). Then we had a good amount of BELGIAN-chocolate ice cream.
See below….
Excellent choice of desserts. I’m glad to hear you can get Belgian-chocolate ice cream in your neck of the woods.
I’ve been meaning to say something about Muntz, but there’s the moving and the computer problems and now I have to write a speech for my parents’ 60th anniversary this weekend.
Muntz, yes, the chicken bone photo is a good shot for displaying character. Cute is fine, but too often terminally cute turns into terminally manipulative. We all know cats only let us stay in their houses on personal whim, but there’s no point in rubbing our noses in it.
Don’t let Grumbley talk you out of the sock photo. There’s nothing wrong with it. It shows the eternal struggle between dark and light, matter and anti-matter, and shows Muntz is ready to fight for truth, justice, and the American Way.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through this speech. When Dad gave the Christmas dinner table prayer (he was diagnosed right before Christmas), he said something about enjoying the time that was left, and then couldn’t go on. Everybody just lost it, except the grandkids. I’m supposed to talk for two minutes. I wasn’t around yet when they were married so I suppose I should talk about stuff like all the snakes and turtles and foreign exchange students we brought home and were allowed to keep.