And this is my teapot, in the midst of brewing my morning decaf Earl Grey.
Now, Pickles isn't know for being the bravest cat around, but he reached a new peak of Scaredy Catness this morning when I placed the teapot on the table and went back into the kitchen to get my cup. As I reentered the living room, Pickles jumped up onto the table (which of course is strictly verbotten). Only, when he landed and saw the tea pot, he shrank back in terror. He nearly fell over backwards ("pulled a Woody") trying to get away from the dasterdly pot of warm liquid.Pickles:teapot::Amber:life without Pickles.
1 comment:
Aw, poor Pickles! Could there have been some steam coming out of the pot, to add to its spooky semblance? Or perhaps it seemed like a small, hard-shelled black-as-night animal waiting to pounce, and young Pickles was loathe to engage in fisticuffs?
Also - that is quite a shopping list. A veritable garden! And only one fleshy entry. Maybe by the time our Big Fancy Retreat rolls around, you will have given up the ghost and become a vegetarian, and then I won't be the only one!
Sigh. One can dream...
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