What type of book are you?
Yuck! I am not! I always think of romance novels as cheesy, melodramatic and completely ridiculous. (Oh, hush up, you... I am not...)
Miss Tashie had been dining on her favorite dish for the past couple of days – homemade beef and noodles. She loves them so much that she will beg incessantly until she gets some. Even while the stuff is cooking, she hangs out in the kitchen and stares longingly at the crockpot, and sniffs the air. She doesn’t do that with any other food, so we always share it with her just to make her smile.
Indulging her with this may have to stop, or at least be curtailed somewhat. Trust me, friends, you don’t want to share airspace with an 18-year-old cat who has been snarfing down pasta to her heart’s content. Lawdy mama, it ain’t sweet.
Agent J stopped into the room a few moments ago, then backed up a step or two.
“Chrisssssssssss! Is that you?”
“No, it’s Tashie! Would I have my nose tucked into the neckline of my nightgown if that was ME smelling like that?”
Yeah, it was that bad.
We both looked at Nastasha as she blinked innocently and purrrrred with satisfaction.
Damn. For such a sweet old cat she sure has some funkified innards. Makes me glad she doesn’t have a taste for enchiladas and refried beans. She’d be a real rootin’-tootin’-air-pollutin’ menace to society, amigos.
Well, it’s only about 10 o’clock and I am already sleepy and rambling on mindlessly about cat farts and such. That means it’s time for bed, I guess. Hehe. Sweet dreams everyone!