As your Master, I summon thee. Now, kill these humans. ALL these humans.
And it’s not like his sister, Rogue, is much better – even though she isn’t a borderjack. We think. Or rather, we don’t think. Well, to be honest, we aren’t really sure WHAT the heck Rogue is. She has this in common with His Wootieness.
What the heck is Rogue Poguey, AKA, The Angry Coho?
Huwo. You can’t peg me. Nope.
Rogue is silvery-blue and white, and squeaked in at just 16″ when measured for agility. She is Evil in Training, but lacks the psychotic qualities of her deeply disturbed borderjack sibling.
As long as it doesn’t involve swimming, I don’t care what you call me. This liquid is GWOSS!
I’m a booteeful and imperious pwincess. Don’t forget that. Or I’ll bite you.
Yesterday we tried a new swimmin’ hole, called Buntzen Lake. Fiona said it was “an adventure,” but I think she just wanted us to go somewhere with water that wouldn’t make Toby smell like the mouldy old socks of a long dead man.
It was quite lovely at the lake, very picturesque, and – HEY! GET OUT OF THE SHOT, TWEED!
But I’m so good lookin’ :(
From what glimpses of it I could catch, that is. Oh hai, Piper. Yes, I see you.
I said YES, Piper, I DO see you! Jeez!
Well fantastic, you’re not blind after all. What good news. Maybe you could see yourself throwing this ball for me then.
Food Lady = slave to a trio of canine whims (Mr. Woo’s whim is to sit around doing nothing at all)
Today, the kittens are the vet getting themselves spayed, while their mama, El Gato Negro, roams my condo calling for her little lost children. It kind of breaks your heart. Also your eardrums.
The brown tabby has a home. The black and white whiskerface is meeting what I hope will be her new home on Saturday!
In other news, Tess the pregnant BC that we flew here a few weeks ago was recently x-rayed and appears to be carrying 8 little bundles of fuzzylump cuteness for us, due sometime in the begining of September. Fingers crossed that all goes well!