Y’all, about the only thing that can cheer me up is a sad song from a guy being backed by a full brass band. And I don’t even know if it’s really sad, because I can’t speak Spanish.
I would shake my fist at fate, but I really don’t want to attract fate’s attention right now.
The Butcher was dog-sitting for some friends just west of here, which meant that I saw him for about three seconds each day as he came home to grab some clothes or to take a shower.
It’s nice to have the house to yourself, but it’s nice when there’s someone else to witness the weird behavior of the pets. Like yesterday, when the tiny cat ate some wet cat food, ate some dry cat food, jumped on the floor and ate some dog food, and then came out here to try to eat my breakfast.
Or when the dog was growling back at the thunder last night. Low “grrrrruuuuumble” from the sky, low “grrrrruuummmble” from the dog.
It’s going to be hard for me to not think of thunder as a growling dog, now, since I’m pretty damn sure that’s what my dog suspects it is–the largest dog she’s ever heard.
Tiny Cat Pants 