Sunday, Sunday, Sunday in the house of the fluxed and flummorous furries ...

Not what Biggest Dog was expecting ... not what the hooman was expecting ... and definitely not what Mr B (aka Fat Boy Not So Slim, Busterson, Augustus G) was expecting! ;-D So, much to Biggest Dog's puzzlement, Mr B decided to occupy her bed in order to properly assess the situation.

This was this morning's attempt to keep Biggest Dog's mind on the move (she has dementia). Mr B has occupied the lounge solo for some weeks now ... this has flummoxed Biggest Dog as she was used to being the sofa surfer. Mr B is still full of hisses and spits toward Biggest Dog, but persistence is the order of every day.

Biggest Dog adores kitty cats ... loves to play with them ... she's just a wee bit on the thump and boisterous side. Mr B is all affrontment and what fresh hell is this, but I'm keeping things crossed that time will temper his reluctance.

In other news ... yesterday's newspaper was there! Woo hoo! Groundhog Day TV Guide us mine!

Saturday, Saturday, Saturday ...

Storm Bert has blown through like the Big Bad Wolf and thrown down the wet stuff in great quantities. Not that I noticed much of what was going on, as I did my usual in such inclement circumstances and slept through the whole thing.

I miss the sea but appreciate being middle earth bound when the weather's like this. This little piggy's house is still in one piece, no-one huffed and puffed and blew down my front door, and the wolf proved to be not such a bad fella and has refrained from eating Grandma.

A good feeling to wake up, get up and potter outside to see the trees still standing.

The big question (of course) is ... will the newspapers have made it to the garage? How else will I know it's Groundhog Day TV and have a newspaper to not read but simply use to wrap cat litter in. And yes, I freely admit that I take a childish pleasure in putting cat poop on the faces of certain people. ;-D