You can pee, and you have a nose, but please don't....

pee on your friend's nose. :-(


....or stick your nose where it doesn't belong!


Poor Jon Farleigh.

There's a turd in the litterbox! Somebody celebrate with me!

Made you look! :)     (sorry, I couldn't resist.)

image credit bandofcats.com

Preface: Somewhere, my hubby -- as he reads the blog now and then -- is hanging his head in shame. He thinks that I'm (check that -- my *whole family* on my dad's side) -- is fascinated with poop. For the record, I strongly disagree; however, I will admit that growing up, the subject (poop) was discussed freely. To be exact, my father (quite matter-of-factly) believed that just about any ailment could be attributed to one being "irregular." Headache? You must be constipated. Bad breath? Constipated. Cranky? Clogged pipes. :) So, we ate a lot of beans and greasy things (no Activia back in that day) to keep things running smoothly. And incidentally, I still had bad breath and got headaches (but was a perfect angel otherwise). (FYI: There's a sucker born every minute. :)

Why there was even that *one* time when -- fairly early in our courtship -- my then boyfriend (now hubby) was over for dinner. He (boyfriend) must have turned down a second helping of butter beans (or some other mushy form of fiber) when my dad -- in his best Sheriff Andy Taylor drawl -- exclaimed, "B___, Ahh SUMtimes wurreh 'bowt yer reg-ye-LAIR-teh! (translation: B___, I sometimes worry about your regularity!")  The rest of the meal was a blur.  I'm surprised I didn't get dumped (pun intended). :)

*****

But, enough about me!  You might recall from yesterday that my old cat, Charlie, has been down with some bad tummy upset (hint: not constipation), which at her age, could have conceivably been her demise. However, this morning, there in her own private litterbox -- a turd! The old girl is still in the game. :) What a relief!

Carry on, y'all. :)


Chocolate, anyone?

In Memoriam: Charlie (Chatting it up in kitty heaven), 1991 - June 2, 2011

The Old, Old Girl, She Ain't What She Used to Be

Our 20-year-old girl, Charlie, has been battling tummy yuck today, but still let's nothing get between her and a good belly scritch...

I'd roll over if I could.

Talk to the paw.

 Her motor still purrs, too.  
(Feel better, Charlie.)