My cat has found a new enemy to mull over. Right now, she is sitting in the windowsill of the writing room, spying on him while he sniffs around in the backyard. The new guy is quite young, striped and beautiful. I know his name is Tiger, because I overheard one of the neighbours call to him, and he meowed very nicely back at her.
Now, you'd think that little Miss Fuzzyfur would be happy to finally meet a nice man after all the fang baring and scheming from the panther. But no. While Tiger mrred and chirped and rubbed against the chair where Pims and I were sitting earlier today, and generally seemed to want to make friends, the rascal ballerina glared at him, then hissed.
Women. I really don't know why we willingly choose the Han Solos over the Luke Skywalkers.
3 comments:
Well... the Han Solos tend to look better in the limelight over time. I really don't know why.
word.
når det kommer til pims er det vel mest naturlig å gå for the stuck up, halfwitted, scruffy lookin' nerf herders
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