My cat smells like Spam
It is a glorious Saturday morning! Slept in with my mate and kitties, all sprawled and snuggled amongst the pillows and blankets beneath the cool breezes and early morning sunlight streaming in through open window. I made it free of the bed before my mate did (not surprising), making way downstairs with Linus Kitty (his round backside bounding down the stairs is hilarious) to open windows and let in breezes. Downstairs still smelled tantalizingly of fresh-baked bread from last night. Thanks to low-carb diet I cannot eat the bread, but I can smell it...
Mate came down stairs and wandered into kitchen to make toast (another amazingly delicious -- and forbidden -- smell) and fry up Spam and eggs for breakfast. Yes, Spam. I would not have believed, several years ago, that I would ever consider Spam to be *food*...but here I am, regarding Spam and Eggs to be a legitimate breakfast combination. Not saying that I -recommend- it -- any protein which came into its popularity during the Great Depression should be regarded with great suspicion -- but...I eat it, sometimes. I blame Hawaii.
Bert Bert Kitty (who was downstairs before us since the food bowl in our bathroom had become distressingly Empty) is not really a Cat, on the inside; rather, he is a Dog. He barks at birds. ("Arff. Arff." Linus Kitty does the normal catly chittering at birds, but his brother definitely barks.) He sits under the dining table hoping for scraps. He is in the kitchen whenever any human is, hoping for Food. And he kept Kayden company the entire time he was frying up eggs and Spamination. Now, his thick, soft fur smells decidedly Spammy. Oddly, this does not detract.
Time to get dressed -- we (the humans, anyway) are going to Shark's Cove tidepools to chase fish and annoy the wildlife. The goal is to have fun without either a) stepping on a sea urchin, or b) cutting oneself on coral. So far, we've managed to not step on anyone. Not so lucky in the coral department...I have a nasty scar on my left knee which dates from about this time last year. ("You realize the next five shark attacks in this area are going to be your fault," said Kayden. I did bleed...rather a lot...into the water...) So, goal: no bleeding, no spiking.
It's going to be chilly, though...I don't like cold water. But I shouldn't complain. I live, after all, on a tropical island.
Mate came down stairs and wandered into kitchen to make toast (another amazingly delicious -- and forbidden -- smell) and fry up Spam and eggs for breakfast. Yes, Spam. I would not have believed, several years ago, that I would ever consider Spam to be *food*...but here I am, regarding Spam and Eggs to be a legitimate breakfast combination. Not saying that I -recommend- it -- any protein which came into its popularity during the Great Depression should be regarded with great suspicion -- but...I eat it, sometimes. I blame Hawaii.
Bert Bert Kitty (who was downstairs before us since the food bowl in our bathroom had become distressingly Empty) is not really a Cat, on the inside; rather, he is a Dog. He barks at birds. ("Arff. Arff." Linus Kitty does the normal catly chittering at birds, but his brother definitely barks.) He sits under the dining table hoping for scraps. He is in the kitchen whenever any human is, hoping for Food. And he kept Kayden company the entire time he was frying up eggs and Spamination. Now, his thick, soft fur smells decidedly Spammy. Oddly, this does not detract.
Time to get dressed -- we (the humans, anyway) are going to Shark's Cove tidepools to chase fish and annoy the wildlife. The goal is to have fun without either a) stepping on a sea urchin, or b) cutting oneself on coral. So far, we've managed to not step on anyone. Not so lucky in the coral department...I have a nasty scar on my left knee which dates from about this time last year. ("You realize the next five shark attacks in this area are going to be your fault," said Kayden. I did bleed...rather a lot...into the water...) So, goal: no bleeding, no spiking.
It's going to be chilly, though...I don't like cold water. But I shouldn't complain. I live, after all, on a tropical island.