Here we are, another Christmas almost come and gone. I sit here, listening to the soft breeze through the open windows, the traffic, the occasional siren (from somewhere near downtown, no doubt), and I can still barely remember the winters from my youth up in New England.
The cold, the snow, the shoveling, my aching back- oh, wait, that's dad bitching, not me.
It's 73 degrees right now, at 5:23 in the morning, and I'm loving it. Of course, it's supposed to rain later on, but that's okay.
This will be, let me see... somewhere between my twentieth and twenty-second Christmas on this planet. I don't remember exactly because dad doesn't remember exactly.
Once again, we're keeping it pretty low key. We're going to be spending this Christmas watching old movies, enjoying a few beers, maybe going out for lunch. Simply enjoying each other's company, the three of us.
Brief interlude-
Imagine soft music playing, maybe get a snack or go pee...
Sorry, I had to yak. It takes two of us- one to yak (me) and one to clean up the warm mess (dad).
Anyway, I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year, and I hope 2014 is good to you. Here's to adding another year to what has been a long, spoiled, luxurious life of leisure (dad just had to put that in there).
See you all next year!
Well, here they are. Dad finally got some shots of me sticking my nose where I probably shouldn't. I've never, ever done this before, and I have no explanation for my recent curiosity in this area.
For the record, they do provide me with ample fresh, cold water (dad made me put this in here).
And don't worry, dad only lifted the lid and hadn't yet added anything to the bowl, so it's not too gross or anything. We're also not worried about where I'll step next, since mom is the most awesomest, ocd-est housekeeper in the world.
This is one of a couple of new habits I've developed in these autumn years of my very long life. Any explanations will help settle these two befuddled creatures charged with my care.
Well, you know how they say "Curiosity killed the cat" or some sh*t like that? Okay, so we are a curious lot, but I don't think it's really that dangerous. I've had this obsession lately with sticking my head where it may not belong.
I can't help it. Despite my advanced wrinkly age I like to explore, even if some things I find new and fascinating have been around me for a long time.
Unfortunately, the only thing mom and dad have been able to get a decent photo of is me checking out dad's coffee, as you can see here. I've recently gotten my head nearly closed in the refrigerator door, behind the refrigerator door against the wall, and, most recently I've taken to standing at the toilet with my paws on the rim of the bowl when a certain someone tries to pee.
I've followed mom into the bathroom too, but I can't quite access the bowl like I can when the big guy goes in there. People are funny.
Diet Coke fiend that she is mom always has a barrel of the stuff sitting around somewhere in the apartment, and I cannot keep myself away from the straw sticking out of the top. Every chance I get I've gotta use the thing as a scratching post for my chin, and mom is constantly swatting me away from it.
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