I larst my caddle een the storm.
To wash the beetter tasde oud ob my mouth I ade sorm meent. The Wooman yell, DOAN' eed thad, cad! Bod I ead, anyway. Whad ees a leedle bomeet between frien's? Eed's nard lighe I threw orp een the aparmen' - I sabe eed por the roop.
Deed I do thad?
Forgheen' Sandy. Loogh ad my terrace.
Ees thad worn ob my caddle? Queeck! A space blangkhet!
Too late.
Maybe I weell keel the squirreel.
Hermano, no te preocupes! The caddle will be back!
ReplyDeleteHoly Cod. We suspected as much. Hold fast...the caddle will return!
ReplyDeleteDo caddle svim?
ReplyDeleteSi, amigo. Keel the squirrell!
ReplyDeleteAh, 'Storbie, I just love your attitude: "Whad ees a leedle bomeet between frien's?" That's right, and like you said, you didn't bomeet inside, so what's the problem?
ReplyDeleteSo sorry about your caddle and your terrace, but keep the faith. Your plants look okay, and I hear tell your strain of caddle are *extremely* hardy.
Ya, da squirrel, keell. Meanwhile, da caddle over the fence, some food throw.
ReplyDelete(Sorry, my best imitation of Pennsy Dutch. It's been a while.)
Ah, the Libe ob Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana: yes, a story of a leedle bomeet. Now I can rest assured, life is going on. such integreedy. Storby, what big purr you have.
ReplyDeleteEstorbo just when I think you have provided me with the best cat photos ever you bring on new marvels! keel the squeerel and the one where you are mourning the loss of the caddle - just love them.
ReplyDelete