In the solid tradition of misplaced nomenclature, I cannot call a cat a cat. (Or a spade a spade, I'm sure, but then I've never met a spade. Though I've met a dog that's been spayed. See how confusing this gets?)
Anyway. The Saab and I would like to believe that we've adopted these two. But owing to their feline nature, I'd much rather say "we're having some friends stay over". Meet Roxy and Velma. Ours is just a noisy hall where there's a nightly brawl.
Roxy is a month and a half old. She loves to chew on fingers, toes and dog food. Yes.
Velma is the same age as Roxy. She spends her time sleeping and watching the fan warily. She reminds me of me.
Roxy and Velma went to Cute School, where they were taught how to pose for pictures. It's very endearing. And alarming.
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6 comments:
the truth about cats on a dog for a day blog...but seriously hot kittens those! Beige I think?, but can't tell with the red-screen effect. Will you'll start adding to the Notrussel-genre of poetry now that you'll have, ermmmmm, personal cats?
Amity: Hell, yeah! The Strauss poems have been gather dust for long enough. The collection will be underway in a while. Want to spend some time with these ladies and figure out their kind. They are verrrry hot cats. Beige only!
Hot mins like red-screen hot!
why don't you bring em over for tea dear?? Saturday perhaps?! :)
Longblackveil: Indeed!
Tart: No, I refuse! You bleddy fool. Come and see my new house and my lovely cats! Kissy.
Longblackveil: Indeed!
Tart: No, I refuse! You bleddy fool. Come and see my new house and my lovely cats! Kissy.
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