How things are, around here

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So we have these animals, and they are numerous.

First, an amusing photo of Otto’s new bed.  Otto is a generous, unassuming soul, which means he occasionally entertains visitors.  Oddly enough, his visitor is always Grandpa, a cat so curmudgeonly that although he is only about two years old, we call him Grandpa.  We don’t call him by his given name, which is Tank.  Because he’s the cat equivalent of an old man waving his fist at the neighborhood yelling YOU KIDS GET OFF MY PROPERTY!

Oscar and Felix, eat your hearts out.

Now, Hermione has been trying to adopt the boys (Grandpa and Mr. Stupidhead) since she moved in, but they will have none of it.  Margaret, however, has been observed allowing such niceties as grooming and cuddling.  The other day I came home and found them en flagrante on a pile of sheets.  I didn’t get a pic but The Lovely Rhonda did, and I’ll post it as soon as she sends it to me.  She’s sleeping and I am afraid to wake her up, like, ever.

And Max.  Max is a scrappy little thing.  He’s all of about six pounds soaking wet and tends toward the anxious side of the scale, but he’s not one of those poor little dogs that does nothing but tremble.   And he’s not afraid to go after what he wants.  Exhibit B:

Oh, Otto. Man up a little, big guy!

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