Day One Hundred Thirty Two

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows

With apologies to the late Lesley Gore, I am stealing the title of her 1963 hit song for my blog today. I have to keep it light. The headache I woke up with is either a sign of an impending stroke or from the virus going around my grandkids' school. Either way, it is preventing me from thinking - or focusing clearly. I am just going to post some random thoughts and observations.

Dreams: I had a dream last night that someone posted an image of a person playing a violin in response to my blog from yesterday. Since that did not actually happen (I checked first thing) I can only assume it was my subconscious telling me to quit the whining. That or my deceased mother is warning me to knock off the Mommie Dearest references.

Oooh, I like this one!

 

Dash et al: I can't go a day without telling Dash's latest escapades. He has gone from eating anything to having a very discerning palate. He hates canned cat food in the form of a patty, and prefers human food to cat food. He loves cheese, chicken, turkey - just about anything we're eating. Oh, and if he doesn't like what I've served, he knocks the bowl to the floor and runs off!

I came home from shopping yesterday to the funniest tableau - Andy was sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by all the animals. Dash and Fancy were on the table; Jack and Rooney next to him; the rest of the cats on the floor or on chairs. He looked like St. Frances of Assisi! He did not hear me coming and looked a little sheepish when I walked in - cause he was sharing his barbeque chicken with everybody. Now, this is the guy who doesn't like cats bothering us when we're eating! Busted!

 

 

One more Dash story: Apparently Dash does not like the palm tree in the dining room to be upright. Every time I straighten it, he pulls it down again. I have given up and decided to leave it that way. What do I care? Better Homes and Gardens cancelled the photo shoot anyway...

 

 

 

Jack and Rooney: Jack chewed the bottom of his foot nearly off. Well, the pad. WTH! I do not understand the logic in that. He cannot put weight on it, and clearly wants us to know it hurts. Now, this is like somebody who bites their nails to the nub complaining their fingers hurt. Or somebody banging their head on a wall complaining of a headache. (Did you get that subtle reference?)

 

Rooney loves her dad and has to sit next to him at night. If Jack is taking up too much room on the couch, she will stare at the tiny spot left, then look to Andy to do something. He knows the look and usually asks Jack to move over a bit. Sometimes Jack just slides to the floor and gives off a heavy sigh like his life is so hard. Yeah, this is a really tough place to live if you're a four-legged creature.