If you've read the previous post then you know that somebody was hissing down the wrong tree. What did YE mean by "my" winter garden. It's not hers, it's ours. We mean, really, our PA should know her place by now, we call the shots around here, not her. Pshaw and humph!
As we find this typing malarkey a far too boring and humble a task for cats like us, we let the pics do the talking. As we all know, one pic says more than a thousand miaows! See the irrefutable evidence below of why the conservatory is OURS!
It's where we have lunch
and hang out.
Where we train to become Olympic couch potato champions,
have a tummy rub
or a wash.
It's where we nibble grass,
watch the world go by
and chat up pretty girls.
It's the best place for being naughty
a bit of a handful, in fact.
It's where we explore things
and discover big hairy, scary monsters.
See what we mean? ;-)
It's our favourite place to eat
and say (cottage) cheese!
It's the place to be for a spot of social climbing!
It's our favourite watering hole!
It's where we go catnip jumping
and play hide and seek.
In short, the conservatory is OURS.
The Bliss team
copyright 2008 Y.E.W. Heuzen
The problem with a kitten is that
It grows up to be a cat.