Pogo pings off the walls this morning. Post-Halloween hilarity perhaps. He streaks across the room, lands on the rug in front of the door and slides up to the wall like a boy in snow boots glides across the ice. And just like a boy, he has to tell the world about the fun at the top of his voice.
Satchmo sits on the sidelines and watches in disbelief. Is this cat the same one I live with? Did the doppelganger take over?
I need to do some errands today but I do not want to get out. I always can clean the kitchen. I spent major time yesterday cleaning the bathroom. This morning, thanks to a couple of cats I know, it needs sweeping.
My aching finger joints tell me winter soon can barrel down like a car on a dragstrip. My least favorite season. Oh, winter boasts beauty, but carries cruelty too.
Count your blessings, Cindy.
Dude is one.
Later.
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