I Do Not Want a Cat

In the wee hours of Friday morning,

We heard a loud cat fight in the back yard.

Larry and I whispered,

Oh no, Garfield.

As dreaded, we did not see him all day Friday.

(I had his food ready)

We had errands to do when Larry was finished work,

and when we came home,

Garfield was running down the street to meet us.

When Larry went in to get his food,

Garf posed.

What is that look on his face?

I think that it looks like a frown.

(look at his bottom lip)

After eating, Garf stretched out on the patio.

The funny thing is,

he kept watching me.

Libby,

in need of equal billing, decided to get attention by

the pugs version of dumpster diving.

I was cleaning the kitchen,

and looked out onto the patio...

was so relieved that Garfield was OK,

and resting in the warm sunset.

I don't want a cat! I don't want a cat! I STILL don't want a cat!

I guess Garfield and I are friends now.

Merde.

Love you,

me.