I give up; the photo sequence I've been trying to load all day just won't.
Instead:
moar funny pictures
There really is a third cat here.
He is older than dirt.
Since Mel's death almost two years ago, he hasn't come out of the laundry room (old house) or basement (new house) on his own power. He will come forth with a list of grievances when you are down there, though.
He spent over thirteen years hating Mel. It fueled him, 24/7/365, asleep, awake, while practicing out-of-body trances. When his raisin dirt disappeared, it just wasn't worth putting in the effort. Now he's just annoyed by everyone, and that's not the same as an epic hatred.
Dogs. Dawgs. Other critters. Life as Oliver Wendell Douglas. Live heirlooms, both flora and fauna. Self-sufficiency. Suffering not a fool to live. Land stewardship. Turnip trucks, and those who have not fallen therefrom. Training things. Growing things. Search and rescue. What is this bug and what is it doing under my desk light? Embracing the reality that Nature Bats Last.
LOL at raisin dirt. I think I'll steal that. ;->
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