Why, oh why, don't you want to play with me, kitty? Puhleeez?
But Leah the cat is having none of it. She is bristling and hissing and swatting and growling and all-around pissed off. I'm only surprised she hasn't taken a chunk out of Chloe's nose or scratched an eye out. Yet.
Email from Gord:
Cameron has a load going out Wed. He will be leaving about 9 a.m. So you should have the boys by supper.
4:45pm Tues
Emil just called. Sounds like he’s excited about traveling in Cameron’s big truck tomorrow. Gord called afterwards, saying he hasn’t been able to find cargo pants (elastic waists required) for Emil, and that he is not happy to see the boys leave; the month has flown by and he’ll miss them. I’ll be glad to see the little buggers.
Emil told me they’d been to the dentist, Dr Tomita. As always, I pronounced his name incorrectly on purpose.
“Oh! Dr Tomato must be getting old by now,” I said.
“Dr Tomita.”
“That’s what I said. Dr Tomato must be getting pretty old!”
He pauses, then says “Yeah, I think he’s in his fifties.”
Quintin helped Scott around the outside of the house again yesterday.
