When I was about 9 or 10, my sister woke me up one morning to tell me that our brother had brought home a little black puppy. I didn’t believe her because it was April Fool’s Day. Yeah, right. I wasn’t born yesterday. But she wasn’t fooling. Our brother had really brought home a little black puppy. He raised homing pigeons that he raced, and apparently someone at a race had had a champion schnauzer that had had puppies with a traveling poodle (stray). The guy was so disgusted that he gave away the puppies, and my brother brought one home.
This morning I woke up under a blanket of four cats: Rikki was sleeping on my chest, Tessla was sleeping on my stomach, Little Bear was sleeping on my legs, and Luke was on my feet. Nothing is warmer or more cuddly than a blanket of cats. It’s a great way to wake up, although I felt so cuddly that I slept late.
This morning I took our poor Timmy to the veterinarian to get neutered. I hate leaving our pets at the vet because they are so scared there. This is what Timmy looked like when we got him home. We were told that he was still woozy from the anesthesia so it would be best to leave him in the cat carrier while he recovered. Otherwise he might bump into walls.