(Please note that that black head you see? That’s Maxi, and she’s RIGHT THERE on the stoop. Outside. Mere feet away from the bravest (or stupidest?) squirrel in the neighborhood.)
“Is this such a good idea, hanging out here under the bird feeders, with that cat RIGHT THERE?” he wonders.
::Pondering::
::Scampering::
::Considering:: (In the end, he ran up the tree and chattered angrily at Maxi.)
Maxi really likes to hang out under those stairs. It’s her place to hang out, and rarely does anyone else ever try to steal her place. Most of the time I don’t even realize she’s under there until she comes out and stretches.
I call her our troll under the stairs.
She’s got such flat, dead Tony Soprano eyes. She’s a sweet little lovebug (though after a few minutes of petting she gets bitey), but I would not be surprised if she murdered me in my sleep.
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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.