The ducks may be gone, Tara and Maya, but the cats still meowl.Here is a picture of Dolly, back when she was two months old (she's four months now); or can it be a picture of Sally, who would have been an hour younger. They just look too much alike. (Or maybe I am addled by dinnertime's Bordeaux?) .
Daughters of ginger-haired Marmounette, they are two balls of black fur rolled up beside me on the bed as I write. One is near my feet (that would be Sally... or is it Dolly?), the other is to my right (pick a name and place it here). Now they yawn and they stretch, at exactly the same time. If they weren't so sleepy, I'm sure they'd want to say "Enchanté, pleased to meet you." (Yes, they're bilingual).
Now to my left, just a little less hairy, and splayed out instead of rolled-up, is multilingual Pierre. If he weren't in deep sleep, I'm sure he'd still be incommunicado. Three a.m. is much too late for him to be exchanging pleasantries with anyone.
The quacking out in the marsh may have been squashed, but here under the blankets, the husband still snores.
P.S. Neither animals nor humans were harmed in the taking of any of these photos.
1 comment:
My, what long whiskers Dolly/Sally has! The only "live" being in my care is my rose plant. I call her Wild Rose, kasi she is the only plant who hasn't died on me after more than two months. All I did differently (as compared to the other plants in my stead before) was take time to care for her (prune, water, talk to) before dashing off to work, then checking on her at night. Perhaps this is my analogy to being able to care for living things in my life ;-)
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