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Sorry for the blogging brown-out, but It’s a Wonderful Life has been aggravating my back and sucking what little surplus energy I have. Last night my spine really didn’t want to go on with the show, making it impossible to get in and out of my chair with any alacrity, so I stood on stage throughout the entire play, which actually seemed to work pretty well, except toward the end, when I accidentally started playing the Stage Manager from Our Town. Happily, Sunday is the closing performance, so we should be open for regular business next week.

In the meantime, here’s another Study in Contrasting Attitudes toward the Camera. Moondoggie, who has never met a lens that didn’t love him, is unruffled by the presence of a paparazzo, but slightly concerned about Riley, who reacts to having her midday sock-fondling interrupted by sputtering indignantly like Lionel Barrymore’s Mr. Potter and threatening to sic the Law on us.

affrontr.jpg

“Merry Christmas to you!…in jail!

5 Responses to “Post-Friday Beast Blogging: The Pissed-Off PSA Edition”

Thank you for these kitteh pictures.

I often think you’re a bit hard on Riley, but, er … well, perhaps not.

(Changing gears here *cough* I came across a site yesterday on how to tell if your cat is plotting to kill you.)

You’re right, she’s actually a sweetheart once you get past her baleful, death ray-like gaze.

(Changing gears here *cough* I came across a site yesterday on how to tell if your cat is plotting to kill you.)

Oh? Do tell.

methinks it may be too late

http://www.catswhothrowupgrass.com/kill.php

:-)

Why would Riley kill Scott? Even in excruciating pain (and never once heeding his Ranty Aunty Annti’s spinal advice… *sigh*), he’s still the non-furry biped who provideth Her Majesty wif kibble, kitteh-weed, and whatever Her Majesty demandeth. What is a queen or empress, after all, without servants?

Besides, despite his lackadaisical behavior patterns, I get the feeling that Moondoggie, being the persistently loyal & affectionate type of kitteh, would take the bullet or garorte for Scott ANYDAY. So I’m sure that, bed/recliner/couch-ridden (ensconced?) though he may be, that Scott is still quite safe within his own (well, shared with the feline overlords) domain.

Well, I hope so, anyway. At any rate, I’m sure that he knows how to get even the sharp-witted and razor-taloned Riley baked off of her ass on teh really good kitteh-weed, just in case she’s looking particularly homicidal at certain points. Always gotta have a back-up plan, right?

Something to say?