Grouchy Not Grouchy

 One of dad's regular duties each week is dropping off packages for shipping, and one of the places he frequents the most is Popcorn Packers right across the river in Lambertville, NJ. Dad apparently looks forward to going there because there's a resident 4-legged old fart who's usually curled up in his bed on a shelf at the back of the store.

This is Oscar, and as dad tells it with an intense glare in my direction, he is anything BUT a grouch and is just the sweetest, most loving, cuddly 16- or 17-year-old ginger man cat. He's a former feral who has apparently learned over his many years to relish human attention and dad says Oscar eats it up like it's going out of style. When dad walks over to him he stretches his weary old bones and steps out of his bed, craning his neck down so dad can give him scritches and rubs. Of course, I don't see any proof of all this hooey, and dad's most likely just trying to make me feel bad since I'm not exactly what one could call "cuddly".

 We're all different, you know? Whatever. So yeah, this is Oscar. Yay. I must be softening in my old age 'cause I didn't give a rhinoceros's butt when dad said he wanted to share about Oscar. Smudge out.