May we present Viola’s very kissable belly. Soft as bunny fur and still spotted mixed with splotches of orange from her angel Mama Zuzu. That belly’s every bit as inviting now as when Viola was a wee baby.
Welcome November! We’ve been waiting for you. Of all the months, November definitely ranks high in the top 12. We like November. Overall, people seem to be a little bit nicer as cooler weather settles in and thoughts of upcoming holidays and family gatherings take hold. We just like the cooler weather unlike Quint who was enjoying napping the day away on a warming mat until Mom interrupted him with a gourd and fall leaves to sniff.
We also look forward to the end of November elections and the eventual removal of all the politics signs that litter every intersection and median and sometimes, nailed to big cedar trees which should be a crime but nothing much seems to be a crime these days. So, those signs stay until our east winds kick in later in the month and scatter leaves and unclaimed signs everywhere.
Later in the month, Mom and Dad will remark on the passing of another year, officially number 37 this time, before each head off in different directions to work. Upon a late, late night return, they might share a frozen pizza before a quick sleep and another work day all over again. It sounds like a dull routine and it is, but it works for us in today’s world.
What doesn’t work was trying to get both Quint and Viola to pose with our November props.
It’s almost that time of year again! Time to gather the treats and haul out Viola’s trebuchet, or as Dad insists, the Catapult. Mom prefers to call it a trebuchet and can say that word all day long. Trebuchet, trebuchet, trebuchet. Who would ever enjoy calling it a Catapult?
Wait a minute, Catapult, Cat-apult. Okay, maybe cats would enjoy saying Cat-apult all day. Never really thought of that before.
Anyhoo, Viola kept knocking the Catapult/Trebuchet treats out of the . . . oh what are we calling that part since Dad wants to identify things correctly today, the cup, the bucket, the basket, the projectile pouch if one insists. And then, she eats those treats. Okay, show of hands. Who eats their own Halloween treats? We know you’re out there. Please accept Viola into your clan.
Just to liven things up this year, the other Colehaus Cats decided it was high time they check out this launcher thing (Mom whispers Trebuchet).
