There’s more than one way to skin a cat

Excuse you.  You might like to rephrase yourself.

My apologies Donut.

Everyone save yourselves!  She’s going to start skinning cats!

Should I be concerned?  Am I a cat?

No, but you eat enough cat shit out of the litter box that you might soon become one.  I swear, every time he gets over one bad habit, and I think he is finally settling down, he develops a new one.  For months and months I babygated the bathroom where the cat litter lives until the entire house of dogs forgot a cat box even existed.  So I stopped with the babygate, and Dexter started sneaking in there for tissues out of the trash, which was only a hop, skip and a jump to nuzzling the litter pan.  Disgusting dog.

And speaking of ‘sneaky’ I must share with you all a funny Tweed story.  There are no photos to accompany it, because I wasn’t even supposed to see it myself.  One of the cats knocked a box of sugar cubes off the pantry shelf in her quest to reach the Temptations™ cat treats (hence the skinning threat).  I guess I missed a cube when I cleaned it up, because a few hours later Tweed discovered the tasty sugar square on the floor.  After peering around to make sure I wasn’t watching (although I was) he delicately scooped up the cube and began nonchalantly tiptoeing around the house looking for somewhere to consume said cube. Having had some experience with sugar cubes before, Tweed knows they are crunchy and make tell-tale noises when chewed up, so he really desperately needed somewhere to go where I would not hear him.  This is difficult to accomplish in a one level, two room, open plan house.  It took him so long to find somewhere safe that the sugar cube, of course, dissolved in his mouth.  This caused him no end of consternation.  He retraced his steps from finish to start, and when he couldn’t find the “missing” cube, he decided someone must have stolen it, so he walked over and gave Dexter Mad Teeth™.  That’s about the point where I started to laugh and laugh.

I love dogs.

Anyway, today is my birthday, which means it is ALSO the (made up) birthday of Piper, Tricky Woo and by default, TWooie too.

Woo: “I don’t want to share my birthday.”

TWoo: “What’s a birthday?”

Of course it’s freezing cold and pissing rain outside, so a celebratory birthday walk is not on today’s agenda.  Instead we had celebratory indoor shitty rawhide rolls for everyone.

Better than mystery cubes.

WHICH YOU’D BETTER NOT STEAL, DEXTER!

Can I steal it?  Can I? Can I?  Huh?

ZOMG!  It’s my 8th birthday!  Stop throwing my present around!

I dunno … it’s okay, I GUESS.  I’ve had better birthdays.

You really have to work at it to excite Wootie.

Everything excites Dexter.

And Tweed’s too full of rawhide rolls to get excited.

I still don’t understand what a birthday is.  *sigh*

Happy birthday to my three wee beasties!  Here’s to many more years together :)