Hosmer and a side of bacon.

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Hi! I’m Hosmer. I’m named after a Royals baseball player who has since left us because evidently he was not making enough millions dollars, whatever those are, so he went to another team to make more millions there. It was a cruel betrayal or so my human tells me.  Sometimes now they call me “He Who Shall Not Be Named” and I get even more confused than I already am, which is kinda all the time.

But this post isn’t going to be about baseball. Or money. INSTEAD, it’s going to be a list of things I don’t like. My human is muttering that this is some sort of cute-ification of her post because everyone loves either dogs or children, and her children have “killed off any sort of mammalian nurturing in her body” because they are “feral AND ungrateful, all at the same time” and this is clearly “why I am the lead today.”

I know. Try to control your enthusiasm.

Here we go:

A List of Things That I (He Who Shall Not Be Named) Really Does Not Like:

  1. The distance, in inches, between her and me.
  2. When she gets up and walks somewhere else. Why? Why the walking?
  3. When she goes to the bathroom, unless door is open. And even then, not so much. We could just go use the copious facilities provided outside. And we could do so, together. Which wouldn’t be awkward at all.
  4. When she makes the dinner for the male humans that always make so much noise. I am am never allowed to eat it. And, there is so much back and forthing while the cooking. Why? Why does she not pour the brown roundings into a dish?
  5. When she pets her children. The betrayal.
  6. When she does not allow me to press my entire body against hers, in fervor. It’s not weird. Why does she seem to think it’s so weird?
  7. When I lose my mind at the door. There are the awful people on the other side of it.
  8. When she LEAVES ME HOW CAN SHE DO THAT AND SHE’LL NEVER COME BACK I JUST KNOW IT.
  9. SHE CAME BACK BUT NOW THERE’S NO PETTING.
  10. Other small furry animals in assorted colors in this house that I am not allowed to touch for some stupid reason. Especially the big white one. Fatty.

Things I DO like:

  1. Ear rubs.
  2. Bacon. One time a piece was dropped on the kitchen floor. Since that time I have been waiting. I know it will happen again. I have the faith.
  3. Ear rubs.
  4. There was another one but I really just want some bacon.
  5. The human who is female. The soft one. She is my love. My life. My everything. I know she feels exactly the same way about me- Oh! We’re moving! Relocating! Another room! Alert! Another room! I must stay close or she’ll stray out of my range of vision! Vigilance is key!
  6. I also like bacon.

And… we’re seated. Deep breath. That was a close one. She was about three feet away for almost ten seconds and, as you know, that makes me all quivery. So, now I’m lying on her feet and all is right with the world.

So. Do you have any bacon?

 

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Ultimate Chicken Horse

 

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So, there’s this game that my kids like to play called Ultimate Chicken Horse.

This is the world we live in. Ultimate Chicken Horse. It’s a thing, people. And as much as I would LIKE to try and explain how this game works to you, gentle reader, I realize two things:

  1. It’s called Ultimate Chicken Horse. Where does one even start with that.
  2. No adult ever really wants anyone to ever explain a game to him or her. I mean, really. Your son wants to discuss Minecraft? That’s your cue to get explosive diarrhea. Every time. I know how this works.

Let’s just say… it involves farm animals and a raccoon and something called a “Party Box.” It sounds like something that would air on late night Showtime, in my opinion. But, let us proceed.

I experienced Ultimate Chicken Horse, in my own household, Sunday night. And so, let me tell you the story. (Please, really, it won’t take long and I haven’t posted in ages and this is the best I’ve got):

Game players:

Blonde: wee one, moaning on couch because he has horrible Chicken Pox virus that he should NOT have because we DID vaccinate him, so don’t email me.

Red: wee one number two. Sucker for all sorts of punishment.

Hubs: Tall, older one who should really know better.

Cat: gray assorted.

Cat: white assorted.

Dog: neurotic type.

Me: angry and tired. But what is new.

 

So, let’s begin the game, shall we?

BLONDE: MOANING.

ME CALLING FROM KITCHEN: WOULD YOU LIKE A SHAKE?

BLONDE: NO.

ME: JUICE?

BLONDE: NO.

ME: SOME WARM MILK, PERHAPS?

BLONDE: NO.

ME: A SMOOTHIE?

BLONDE: NO.

ME: HOW ABOUT A SHOT OF TEQUILA?

RED: MOM. MOOOOOM. MOOMMMM!

ME: RUNNING TO BATHROOM, RIGHT PAST HUSBAND WHO IS “DOING SOMETHING,” ON THE COMPUTER SO IS UNABLE TO HEAR.

ME: WHAT?!

RED: MY WOUND! MY WOUUUUUND! IT HURTS! IT HUUUURTS! (Red is in the bath. Red also has half-inch scrape on tummy and likes to repeat himself when dizzy with pain). THE PAIN! THE HORROR! THE PAIN! THE HORROR!

ME: WELL GET OUT OF THE BATH THEN. OH, BUT I’M SO SORRY YOU ARE HURTING. BUT NOT REALLY BUT I’M JUST SAYING THAT BECAUSE THE PARENTING BOOKS SAY EMPATHY IS THE THING SO YES, SORRY.

RED: I CANNA GET OUT OF THE BATH THE PAIN IS TOO MUCH. MOVEMENT WILL KILL ME. SO WILL SITTIN HERE. AYE.

ME: YOU ARE USING THAT SCOTTISH ACCENT THING YOU DO WHEN YOU ARE FREAKING OUT. SHALL WE PAINT YOUR FACE BLUE?

RED: NO JOKING. THERE IS NO JOKING WHEN THE PAIN IS NIGH.

BLONDE: MOMMMMMMM.

ME: WAT

BLONDE: I COULD PERHAPS HAVE A MOUNTAIN DEW. WITH A TWIST OF LIME.

ME: NO. SODA IS NOT ON THE TABLE UNLESS PUKING.

BLONDE: I COULD PUKE.

ME: YOU NEVER MENTIONED PUKING BEFORE.

BLONDE: I COULD THO.

RED: MOOOOM. I DINNA KNOW IF I CAN TAKE IT MUCH LONGER. BUT HERE I WILL STAY, TO TELL YOU ABOUT IT.

CAT, ASSORTED GRAY: I THINK NOW IS THE TIME TO PEE IN THE CORNER OF THE LIVING ROOM.

CAT, ASSORTED WHITE: I SHALL WATCH.

CAT, ASSORTED GREY: NOW I WILL START SCRATCHING AT THE FLOOR AS IF TO COVER UP THE CAT URINE BECAUSE CLEARLY I AM AN IDIOT.

ME: GOOD GOD WHAT ELSE?

DOG, NEUROTIC TYPE: HERE I AM! I SHALL-

ME: RHETORICAL QUESTION, DOG. GO OUTSIDE.

DOG: I AM NEVER TAKEN SERIOUSLY. THEY WILL RUE THE DAY.*

BLONDE: MOM? MOOOOOOM?

ME: WHAT?

BLONDE: NOTHING. JUST CHECKING THAT YOU WERE STILL LISTENING. MY THROAT IS STILL AWFUL. SO CAN I HAVE SOME HARD POINTY CHIPS AND SALSA?

ME: UH IF YOU HAVE A SORE THROAT THEN SALSA MIGHT- OH JUST FORGET IT. HERE. MAYBE THE CHILIS WILL BURN THE VIRUS OUT OF YOU.

RED: WHY IS HE GETTING CHIPS? I WANNA CHIPS! HE GETS THE BURNING AND I DON’T. IT’S NOT FAIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRR.

ME: GET OUT OF THE $##* TUB. YOU CANNA EAT CHIPS IN THE TUB. NOW I’M DOING THE SCOTTISH THING.

HUBS: HONEY? OH HONEEYYYYYYY?

ME: WHAT.

HUBS: I HAVE THIS FILE FOLDER HERE WITH ALL OUR TAX APPRAISALS FOR THE HOUSE AND I AM DOING OUR TAXES BUT REALLY WHAT I AM DOING FIRST IS INPUTTING THEM ALL IN A SPREADSHEET THAT I WILL THEN FORGET ABOUT BUT BY GOD I HAVE TO DO THIS RIGHT NOW AND SO I AM WONDERING, WE HAVE ALL THE APPRAISALS EXCEPT FOR 2014. WHERE IS THE TAX APPRAISAL FOR 2014? FOR THE HOUSE? BECAUSE IT’S NOT HERE IN THIS FILE AND RIGHT NOW I REALLY NEED THIS. LIKE RIGHT NOW.

ME: YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE TAX APPRAISAL FOR 2014 IS?

HUBS: I NEED TO KNOW. RIGHT NOW.

ME: YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE TAX APPRAISAL FOR 2014 IS? RIGHT NOW?

HUBS:…

ME: IT’S IN YOUR BUM. WHY DON’T YOU GO LOOK FOR IT.

And that is how I won Ultimate Chicken Horse.

 

*DOG HAS SO FAR NOT DONE ANYTHING TO MAKE ME RUE ANYTHING. SWEET BOY.

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What a Momsie Believes.

I was up at 5 AM folks. FIVE.

That’s when, like, ARMY PEOPLE get up. To go run hills and save the world and all.

I did not run hills, nor save the world, BUT I did laundry and read the bible.

Not at the same time. But still.

And THEN I ate a completely healthy and hearty bowl of steel-cut oats (the oats for hipsters!) and blueberries and I felt all BAM! I’m gonna kick some serious BEHIND today. I’m on FIRE! I had OATS that were cut by STEEL!

And then, in about an hour, I noticed this:IMG_7401-1.JPG

Yep, that’s my laundry installation. It’s got a great aesthetic, and I’m going to leave it in the living room for a very long time, I think.

I call this sculpture, Expansion.

Or:

I Washed A Bunch of Clothes But Folding Them Makes Me Feel Sad

And so, instead of dealing with reality, I decided to take the dog on a walk. I figured when I got home, the laundry will have flown away, like laundry does.

Ok, it never does that but it’s a really pretty day. So there’s that.

And I took the dog and we spied this:IMG_7350.jpg

And I wondered if somehow the laundry was trying to tell me something? It made me feel better. Even if it wasn’t about the laundry, somebody, somewhere, was trying to be nice about something. And so, the universe smiled. As the universe does.

THEN, I came across this:IMG_7400.jpg

And I was all, I GOT YOU UNIVERSE; I SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING HERE.

And the dog and I strutted home, in the fall leaves, all crunchy and awesome. And I was feeling crunchy and awesome. And Hosmer managed to completely match up his little prancy paws with my ipod.

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Who knew that The Doobie Brothers were Hosmer’s  JAM, y’all?

He was all prancy-prancy and “But what a fool believes, he sees. No wise man has the power to reason away!”

And I was all, “What seems to be, is always better than nothing, than nothing at all!!!” And I think we kinda freaked out an older gentleman who was trying to get in his truck, but I just smiled and waved a lot. And kept singing about fools believing.

And THEN I got home and the universe still had not put away the four tons of clothes in my living room.

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I get it, Universe. There’s only so much that you will do for me. You’re not an enabler, I’ll give you that.

But it still was an awesome morning. So far the art installation of kids’ socks and Star Wars beach towels has not moved. I think it adds a certain touch to house. I might add my whites’ load to it later, to go for a little more height.

And here we are. This is the best song in the history of songs. And there is SUCH good hair going on. Give it a listen, and you will feel all I LOVE YOU, UNIVERSE, too.

I’m the Dog. I’M THE DOG.

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Best. Movie. Ever.

So, in today’s post, one of us is going to be the dog.

And, as so often the case, I really REALLY think if you just stay with me, it will all make sense at the end.

That’s how I feel.

Really.

Today I’m linking up with my oh so happy place, favorite people: Five Minute Friday!  The theme??

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Right now, I am writing this on the couch, because I can’t move. I can’t move because of two neurotic and highly co-dependent beasties have wedged themselves in on either side of me so closely that I can use one as an armrest and the other ones heartbeat is thumping up against my thigh. That sounds kinda weird, but she has a really pronounced cardiac rhythm going on. I am kinda impressed. She must have just finished her bootcamp  workout.

I give you… exhibit A:Photo on 4-28-17 at 11.59 AM #2.jpgI loooooooooooove you. That shiny, silver thing has come between us, yet again, but still, I loooooooooooooove you.

And, also, exhibit B:

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I loooooooooove you too. Not quite as effusively as the Missing Link dork-dog to my left, but you know.

Anyhow. Here I am. Stuck in the middle with you.

And, as I am typing away, I hear it: A sort of squeaky rumbling. It’s a weird sort of gurgling, actually. I look around the room for the culprit, but my living room doesn’t house a lot of things that… gurgle.

It’s the dog. I’ll just take the suspense away, right here. Hosmer’s stomach is jangling with such intensity that, clearly, he’s hungry. Like, LOUD hungry.

Honestly, it’s hard to type over all this racket.

But, yet… he remains varnished onto my side. His precious bowl of Doggie Lickums is right there, in the other room, but he’s seemingly content to sit here and rumble.

It is rare that I ever allow my stomach to get to this stage of gurgle (Hosmer is at, like, DEFCON level light red or two or whatever is really, really highly bad), but if I did… and about ten steps away was a bowl of chips? I would get up and go to the chips. It doesn’t really matter if I was cuddling with the husband prior or not. Food wins, when the stomach is in high alert.

Besides, I know too that I can always eat a few chips and then GO BACK to the husband on the couch.

So… basically? The dog would rather starve to be near me.

Perhaps I am exaggerating a little, but you’re not here. The rumbling is like that scene when the T-Rex finds the poor people in the jeep in Jurassic Park. Ominous. Thumpy. Has its own soundtrack. Jeff Goldblum is involved. That sort of thing.

Ok, so HERE IS MY POINT (Hallelujah!)

We need to be the dog. We need to be like this with God. And… since I am so happily wedged into my Congo fast these days… I get it. I am needing to be more dog like. Content. In the moment. Furry and sacrificial. That sort of thing.

I apologize for making you the dog. It’s the best I’ve got today. And truly? Dogs are awesome. We all know that.

 

And then, there’s this guy:Photo on 4-28-17 at 12.13 PM.jpg

Save

Countdown

I’m walking the boys home the other day and noticing the trees. All the oranges and reds and yellows. It’s your basic God’s glory kind of material. The usual off-the-hook stuff that He specializes in.

And I’m all:

 

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Prancing home in the leaves, like a happy little Leonardo.

Also, since Halloween is on Monday, we are having one of those “Dress Crazy Every Day Because This Will Help Us Not Do Drugs” weeks at school. Because Halloween is scary, and so are drugs. And dressing up is fun!

Ok, I am not, my friends, providing any snark about this. Ok, maybe just a little, but it’s from MY end, not the kids’. The kids are cute and adorable and yes, we need to tell them about drugs. But, just a note: Sometimes, when I am trying to find the ONE Captain America glove that has curled up in a little ball and is hibernating VERY SUCCESSFULLY in our house, at 6:46 am, and yes, I know, it’s Superhero Day and if a Superhero doesn’t wear his gloves then he’s Captain Loser and the world has lost all meaning… Sometimes? It’s at times like these that I, just for a teensy tiny minute, think something like this:

“I might really like to have some of those drugs right now.”

Irony, eh? It’s here to keep hitting us upside the head every once in a while. Helps us feel alive.

And I know. I’m awful. I promise I won’t take up drugs just because we didn’t get organized enough to find all the Captain America accessories (of which there are more than BARBIE has, for the Love of Thor). That would just be silly. Hugs, not drugs.

ANYHOW. Back to Fall, where we take the Obligatory Pictures of Children in Costumes (these are of Superhero #2, also known as Flash, which is SO not really in his personality profile, but for the time that he did wear the costume, he did actually TRY a few times to be quick while moving at the same time. He ran into a wall. It was endearing.)

I like to call this series:

The Dog Gets Increasingly Embarrassed

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Oh, and there was Crazy Hair Day. Also known as: Spray a lot of Glitter on my Children Day and Hope They Don’t Get Close to An Open Flame.

I took this picture of a rather grumpy Red:

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And I realized something….

He kinda looked like:

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Which, as you KNOW… is part of the cast for this classic:

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So, I am reminded, logically….

CHRISTMAS MUSIC EVE WILL BE HERE IN FOUR DAYS!!!!!! Woo HOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

Thank you for staying with me through my thought process on this post, which was brought to you by:

  1. Allergy medication
  2. NO other drugs
  3. Possibly a little glitter

 

Merry Christmas Music Eve!!

I’m coming for you, Joshie!

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The Fourth of July, as Told to You by My Pets

The Fourth of July: A One Act Play

Performed by:

Hosmer, the Dog and Not the Player

Steve the Cat

Cameo: Bob, the Other Cat

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Opening scene, The Front Door:

Steve the Cat: I’m just gonna lean on this glass door here. Glass is transparent, did you know? And all the large booming noises and all those sparks flying all over? They do not merit even a switch of my whiskers. In fact, I think now is the time to pick up my back foot and just start grooming myself. In front of this door. Right here.

Hosmer: Right THERE?  The door is the gateway to the Doom of Forever! FOREVERRRRRRRR. I AM NOT OK WITH YOU GROOMING YOUR BEHIND IN THIS PLAY. CHILDREN MIGHT BE PRESENT. CUT IT OUT.

Steve the Cat: Suck it, canine.

Hosmer: WHAT is UP with the blowing up of stuff out there? I am not in the military, but I am pretty sure this is what they call an ATTACK. THEY ARE ATTACKING. WE NEED TO RETREAT. RETREEEEEEAT.

Steve: This family does not retreat. As General Patton said, “Cats are superior beings.”

Hosmer: I can’t quite hear you as I have wedged myself underneath the refrigerator.Wait, what?

Steve: I believe it’s time to now flop down and show my large white underbelly to you. Because I can. Because, look. The belly. It’s hypnotic.

Bob: *Oh for heaven’s sake this is not Showtime.* (from the closet, stage left. WAY left. Like upstairs, left.)

Steve and Hosmer: Shut it, tiny, nervous, invisible cat. No one believes you even exist.

Bob: That’s because I haven’t come out of the closet since 2012.

Steve: (giggles) He said, “Come out of the closet. You know. That’s kinda funny. But not in an intolerant way. Oh dear.”

Hosmer: Good one. You just lost half our readership. Geez. Anyway, it’s kinda hard to discuss anything with you right now as I am now trying to figure out how to make the ice maker stop going off because it TOO is making me nervous. And with basically the END TIMES knocking on our door I cannot do ICE TOO. THIS WORLD IS SO HARD IF YOU ARE FURRY.

Husband: I’m furry! It’s not so hard! (har har har)

Bob: *eye roll towards husband Human because he’s got Dad humor and it’s a hot mess* Look, being furry is not so hard. Just live in the closet. I have been perfectly content lacquering my owner’s clothing with hair and furballs for four years. As realtors say, “It’s cozy.”

Hosmer: Has anyone  noticed that this play is really boring?

Steve: I know. There goes the other half of the readership. We need to rally. As General Patton said, “Cat’s are going to take over the world.”

Hosmer: I see what you’re doing.

Bob: People, the solution is clear. Come to the closet. Except, find another one. You can’t be in here with me. I’m too twitchy for that.

Steve and Hosmer: NO ONE EVEN THINKS YOU ARE REAL. SHADDUP.

Hosmer: Ok, my Human came back! She is back in the house! It’s been so long! I missed you so much! Thank you! Thank you for coming back to meeeee!

Steve: Dude. Have some pride. She was gone for ten minutes.

Hosmer: I have my pride but first I am going to crawl up her front side and perch right here on her shoulders like a couture doggie backpack. No problem! Comfortable for allll!

Steve: You look ridiculous.

Hosmer: I am! I know! I don’t care! My Human will help me! Only if I basically try to fit myself onto her skull, but that’s how all the pet owners do it on the fourth of July!

Steve: *Really loud boom* Wow, that was kinda a loud one. I think I might have to blink at it a little and slowly amble my way over to you and stare while you levitate off the couch in total fear of the endtimes. And, I’m going back to the licking thing. It’s hypnotic, isn’t it? Oh and wait! Here’s the grand finale! The big finish! Furball!

Hosmer: Wow. Can I just say? That scene in Galaxy Quest with the Chompers? That is exactly, EXACTLY how I feel about fireworks. *Turns to audience* And did you know? Galaxy Quest is now streaming on Netflix! Great movie! *winks*

Bob: I would like to state for the record that I am not participating in shameless plugging of the Netflixes. I never watch it. Because I am here. In the closet. Forever. Perhaps one day the Humans will get me a tv in here. Maybe a cushion or two. It could happen.

Hosmer: I would also like to state for the record that the following clip has potty language. But you know? It really does pretty much sum up my view of blowing up stuff on this holiday. I got an idea, Humans. Why don’t you just throw tennis balls around? The really slobbery kind? Those are so fun. And, you could eat the things you call the hotdogs so I can wait for them to fall to the ground. But no one ever listens to me. I’m just the dog.

Steve: Very true. You are just the dog. And, as General Patton always said-

Hosmer: Oh go choke on some catnip.

 

The End.

Stay tuned for the sequel:

Halloween! Let’s Freak Out Every Five Minutes!

Coming soon to a off off OFF Broadway location near you. Maybe. Probably not. Ok, you know, it’s about as likely as the tv in the closet thing, but you know.

 

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State of the Fur Ball Union

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I INVENTED the #RBF… (Look it up…)

 

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You will never see my face.

Momsie: Ok, I have gathered you three here today –

Steve: Bob’s not here. She’s still in the closet.

Me: I know, but I figured she might join us later once I bring out the treats.

Hosmer: TREAT! TREAT! TREAT! HOLY CRAP ON A CRACKER I THINK THE TOP OF MY HEAD IS GONNA BLOW OFF!

Steve: Really. Really? You brought this… into our house? So annoying. His only job is following and looking at humans endearingly. Oh, and look, he’s cocking his head and putting one ear up.  This is clearly a sign of psychosis.

Hosmer: I am affable! and nice! That’s the ear! The EAR!

Steve: I will eat your soul.

Hosmer: I can play fetch! Fetch! Watch!!

Steve: Fetch is how they enslave you. Stupid dog.

Hosmer: We don’t use that word! Say sorry! Or not! It’s ok! I love you!

Steve: Ok, now I gotta pull out the big guns and just hiss at you. Make my tail about three times its size. Hold on, this is kinda hard (grunts)

Hosmer! Wow! that is impressive! That thing is like, like! HUGE! I can only wag mine! I love it! I love you!

Steve:

Me: Ok. I can see we are still not really all that, um, comfortable with each other, but –

Hosmer! I am! I am all comfort all the time! Let me sit on you!

Me: Focus. Anyhow, I just wanted to say that we are a family, all of us.

From the closet: I’m not. I’m not a family. I am too tense to be family.

Me: FOCUS, pets.  The point here is that we need to all try and get along. Steve, stop putting your butt in my face.

Steve: What? It’s effective communication.

Me: It’s passive aggressive, fur ball.

Hosmer: I have no idea what that means! But whatever it is I will never do it! But I will lick my privates while I try to cuddle with you! All night! It’s my love language!

Steve: My love language is sneer.

Closet: Love language is for pansies. I eat love language for breakfast.

Hosmer: Hey! I know! Let’s all get up and move around a bit! My tail is gonna take me into flight anyway… Moving is the best!

Momsie: Ok. I can see this isn’t really getting anywhere…

Hosmer: OH HOLY WALKING SHE’S MOVING THIS IS SO WONDERFUL I GET TO FOLLOW YOU!  I KNOW I SAID EARLIER IT WAS THE BEST BUT THIS! THIS RIGHT NOW IS REALLY THE BEST!!!

Steve: *eyeroll* How can we work with this?

Momsie: Well. The clicking toenails thing did take a bit of time to get used to.. but you know? He’s cute.

Steve: I’M cute.

Closet: Not me.  You pick me up and I go all stiff, like one of those taxidermy foxes.

Hosmer: HOLD THE PHONE, THERE’S A FOX IN HERE? WHERE? WHERE??

Steve and Closet: For the love.

Hosmer: YES! LOVE! I LOVE YOU GUYS! I FEEL HAPPYYYYYYY. I think I’ll go for a walk.* THIS RIGHT NOW IS THE BEST OF ALL THE BESTS!

Steve: Shaddup. Go fetch something. Like my soul.

 

So far, the state of the union in this house is tense and furry, at least from the feline perspective. The canine side of the house is oblivious and slobbery. And life goes on.

*Obscure movie reference to Monty Python, because the cats are Python fans. Of course.

The dog isn’t. You either “get” Python, or you don’t. He is of the “I don’t get it” tribe. But, you know, he also sniffs your crotch to say hello, so his level of humor is a bit less sophisticated.

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I love you! Please walk somewhere so I can follow you!

 

 

For those of you in the “I get it” tribe:

“Take out the silly things!!”