This is another amazing guest post. This time from the unequaled Liz of This Full House. At least someone understands that I need a vacation. Thanks Liz!
|What? You don't have one of these?|
In my next life, I want to be a cat. Just, not MY cat, because, well, he’s used up 3 of his lives,
already and, well, you know.
The point I'm trying to make (and yes, Kendra, I really do have one) why do cats always seem so
Unless, there's a dog around. Or, kids. Oh, and maybe something BIGGER that can, you know,
eat it, well, that WOULD be REAL bad.
Seriously, look at my cat, snuggled safely into one of the many, many baskets scattered
throughout the house (what, I've got O.C.C.C. - obsessive compulsive collector of crap, okay?)
What was I saying? Oh, yeah (I'm old, okay?) seriously, just take one look into his big greenish
eyes (go ahead, I'll wait) don't they just SCREAM what IS your problem, right?
I guess what I'm trying to say, here (btw, if you are still reading, there IS a special place in
heaven for those who humor debilitatingly dork-ish folks, like me, I swear!) just look at him, go
ahead, I'll wait.
Honestly, his only function, at the moment, is to indulge in doing absolutely nothing and I bet
you dollars to donuts that WE (i.e. human, more specifically, parental unit types) should be
allowed a moment, to ourselves and just be...for JUST 5 blessed minutes...right?
Go ahead and find a chair (or, basket) somewhere to curl up in and just tell everyone, “I am
grooming my inner-cat!"
That SHOULD get them hauling tail, out of the room, pretty quick, and gain you AT LEAST 5
minutes of peace and quiet – in theory, anyway.
In the meantime, thank you for humoring me, Kendra and for allowing a dork (like me) the
chance to spend these last few minutes, all curled up in my favorite chair, with you and your
beloved readers (yes, even YOU, way in the back, I love your hair!)
Oh, and before I forget: Frankie says, “You ALL look absolutely fetching,” by the way!
Author’s note: okay, so there is NO such word as "dibilitatingly" (but, dagnabit, there should
be) and my cat’s name is NOT Frankie (it’s Bucky and, well, close enough) however, fetching
IS my new favorite word and consider its use, in this particular instance, quite appropriate, if
Frankie could talk, for real!
It's me again. Don't forget to give Liz some love over at her blog, This Full House. Liz, I can't wait to see you next month!