I have been remiss in posting, there's no question of that, but I have good reasons and right now I'm much too weary to dive into the post I've been writing in my head for the last ten days to explain those reasons. Actually, there are three or four posts ruminating in my head (a lot goes on in there at any given time my friends. Most of which is rather scary) but they - and you - will have to wait little longer.
But I've just spent a long stretch of time trying to understand HTML code so that I can add some enhancements to my page and followed that with a few minutes of looking at cute kitty photos, which put me in a much better frame of mind. Because there's precious little that can't be improved by a picture of a cat pushing a baby carriage or a kitten licking someone's toothbrush.
In that spirit, I add here a quartet of pictures of my own menagerie that never fail to make me smile.
Though not usually a talker (Hollis holds the crown for that) here Baxter made a rare, emphatic vocal performance. Her voice is used so infrequently that it always sounds raspy and tentative and rattles deep in her throat. Here she's either trying to save me from the monstrous thing obstructing my face, looking to eat the camera itself, or just hoping to impress upon me her desire to be fed. Personally, I'm betting on number three.
I've shared in an earlier post about the twins and Feaghan how Feaghan's favorite pal is a hamster named Percy. How my mother came up with Percy, I couldn't tell you, but since the twins have a hedgehog named Mountjoy, I'm not exactly in a position to point fingers. Feaghan has a ritual every day where she'll bring out all her troops one-by-one into the living room and then back into the bedroom over the course of the night. It's a little parade of inanimate objects and stuffed toys. It also can make walking around in the dark a little dodgy. One morning I came out into the living to find Percy standing at attention, bold as brass, waiting for the day to begin as though daring me to get in his way or be a wuss about it.
Being the imp she is, Hollis can never resist investigating everything that crosses her path. She is a sucker for bags, like most cats, but has been known to get herself wrapped up in the plastic grocery bags and then drag it all around the kitchen with her in alternating paroxysms of glee and fits of get-this-thing-off-me. Guess which one she's thinking here.
And I am not so good-hearted of a kitty wrangler not to let her languish there to learn her lesson while I point and laugh and take pictures.
And last but never least is a "jeez, she's just too cute" photo of Feaghan who's basically wondering why we all just can't get our acts together and chill out, man.