Good morning, darlings! Welcome to Truly Mushy Cranium. Oh, wait, that was last night. This is Thursday Morning Coffee. Much better.
<------- OMG, the cup to my left is more than half empty. Tragic.
But no need panic, because the cup to my right is a bigger cup, and it's full. Whew, we'll get through the day, after all. ------------>
Okay, so this next bit is kind of creepy; I must show you the face of a killer so that you will not be caught unawares, like I was.
It was yesterday morning, and it was all very shocking and unpleasant.
Code Name: Colby
Nickname: Sir Purrs-a-lot
I know. I do know this.
He's been around here for awhile now, and he absolutely adores me. Hates everyone else who lives here, but I am his person, and me and all the people in my head are people enough for him.
Truth is that we've been so long without corpses around here that I totally forgot this sweet-faced boy was originally brought into the house as a kibble-paid assassin.
He apparently kept up on his skills, and when an interloper broke in, took care of the trouble while we slept, completely unaware that we'd been infiltrated. There was blood. There was gore. There was a mouska-corpse.
It was all rather unpleasant. Especially the part where I was attempting to remove the blood stains and remembered that the assassin had awakened me with gentle face-pats from his paw, and a fierce nose-to-nose nudge. Ewwwwww.
This isn't the only think hinky going on in this house, either.
This morning I found this in the living room. Let's call it Exhibit D, a clear case of "Leap and Slide."
The main question is how the heck did the dog retain her mud all the way from the mudroom to the living room without leaving a full trail of prints?
There is no mystery about the actual leap and slide. I know, from past experience, that The Orange Assassin must have been perched adorably on the dog's side of the gate, with the full and outright intention of torturing the dog (Code Name Jazz, Nickname Meat-head) with his adorableness.
A blurry phone photo of the paw-print culprit, standing right next to the incriminating evidence because she is a total meat-head ------------->
Of course we are having a party here on Sunday. A sweet and formal 1st Communion celebration. Not because we are religious, but because the Sprite wants to take communion like everyone else when she goes to Catholic church with grandma. And I'm not going to be the buzz-kill on that one, whether I care for organized religion or not. I think education is a fine thing, and I want to provide Sprite with whatever tools she needs to figure out the God question for herself.
Plus, there will be cake.
But as of today, I have blood traces on one carpet, and clear dog prints on the other. Which means I really should wrap up this Thursday Morning Coffee gig and get out the carpet cleaner and the vaccuum, the dust mop and the iPhone. Dial me up a little Bob and Sheri on the podcast, and get busy putting this house in order.
'Cause on Sunday there will be cake.