Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
When the weather outside is frightful, don’t forget to check on your neighbors to make sure they’re OK. I was worried about this old fellow but, while he didn’t say a word, he wore the same thoughtful if bemused expression he always has, no matter the circumstances. I left him to his musings.
The ice was starting to melt on the day after Christmas and was even gone from this section of the street, but it would be another day yet, when warmer and wetter weather dispatched the snow and ice for good, that it would be safe for motorcycles.
As 2018 rings in, a picture from New Year’s Day a decade ago, about a week after we adopted Sam and Emma. Sam was allowed limited exposure to the house at large, which meant he also got to meet our oldest Scout face-to-face instead of under the door. She quickly became his hero. Today the roles have changed, he is our oldest and it is little Trixie who worships him. They are both curled up on my lap, but with fireworks in the distance he is too restless to sleep.
Someone isn’t happy she didn’t get the pony she asked for. Fortunately Trixie doesn’t know Santa only comes once a year so she is lying in wait in vain. While her skills with the lasso are not to be underestimated, you have nothing to worry about Santa, I’m quite sure she’ll have calmed down by next year. I’m pretty sure. It’s certainly possible. I’m sure you don’t get to be Santa without knowing how to get out of being tied up. Right?
Little Squeaks loves the feel of our old cloth shopping bags and can’t resist sleeping on them, even when they lie in the forbidden lands.
“May your walks be long, past many houses, at every house a Steve.”
“May you curl up on your loved ones and watch new episodes of Doctor Who! Jo-die! Jo-die! Jo-die!”
“Ah, about that little one. Her episodes don’t start until the fall.”
“Noooooooooooooooooo!”
“May your grate be empty and your belly full, and warm.”
“May you spend your days squished into a cardboard box.”
