This is the look I get from the ne’er-do-well when it’s time to close the blinds and she’s not quite ready to be done spying on the courtyard. I’m not dead, thank goodness… but certainly not from lack of trying on Holly’s part.
Someone who shall remain nameless – *cough cough* the ne’er-do-well *cough cough* – really sucks at hide-n-seek. But she excels at being cute. So who is the real winner here?
I have to give the Ne’er-do-well credit, she is gorgeous. Especially her eyes. Maybe she’s born with it … maybe it’s Meowbelline.
Okay, so that one was bad, even for me.
The sneeze heard round the world. One can’t be bothered to even look up from her nap. And the other takes it as a personal affront. Sheesh.
It’s Mother’s Day and my son’s birthday today. Since I’ve already told my mother how I feel about her (don’t roll your eyes, it was nice … thoughtful even) and revealing how old my son is makes me old, I’m just going to talk about my cat. I mean, look at this cat. Normally Shaylee is the Queen of Refinement, the epitome of poise and grace. And here she is, right when the realization struck that she had rolled herself just an inch too close to the edge of the bed necessitating a very unladylike maneuver to keep her from meeting the floor a tad harder than she would’ve liked. Laughing at moments like these are just one more reason I’m going to meet a fiery end.
So, my cat Shaylee eats crickets. I know. Yuck. The thing is, she won’t eat the legs. Again. I know. Double-yuck. My unfortunate part in all of this bloody chaos is to clean up the mess left behind by my
fur-covered psychopath lovely pet. It is not a job that I relish, in any way, shape, or form. If I find a cricket, I will gently catch it, and put it outside — after a stern lecture on its ill-advised decision to enter my patrolled abode … with the hopes it will scurry off, never to return to these murder-filled halls. But all too often, Shaylee is more observant, and certainly faster, than I could ever be. Which leads to cricket legs being scattered about the house for me to find. Let me be clear. Just. The. Legs.
I hate my life.
The derpiest derp to ever live in Derpland. Now, I’m not saying she should currently be sitting on the golden throne of Derpland, but she is definitely in the line of succession.