The other day I was waiting for The Boy to finish ironing. I was standing by the model train layout. I was also standing by the box of toy farm my grandparents sent home with me this Christmas. It is the farm set I played with as a kid EVERY time I went to their house.
When The Boy came into the room I asked him a very important question: “did the people that mapped out this rail route take the giant rabid bunny population into account?”
The Boy said that no, they had not. Shortly after he left for work a jaguar started stalking the giant rabid bunny from behind the farmhouse. I went to take a shower.
Dressed and ready for work, I walked through the layout room and discovered the rabbit and tiny plastic jaguar were gone. The rail people may regret hiring a really giant brown kitten to take care of their only slightly giant rabbit population.
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Mr. Bear is feeling kind of flat and beaten down by life.
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I found I was all alone this afternoon. I found Kitten Thunder on the cat shelf upstairs, enjoying smell-o-vision and a nap.
This two square feet sums up why we picked this house. Though I think I need a Girl shelf.
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Did you watch Longmire on A&E tonight? What did you think? If you didn’t, you should give it a try. Or, better yet, read Craig Johnson’s amazing books!
Kitten Thunder: Life lessons and cat tales 
Well, of course the cats are napping. Giant rabid rabbit control is hard work.
I’ve just discovered that i’s really hard for me to type “rabid” if the next word is going to be “rabbit”. It comes out r-a-b-b-(backspace)-i-t-(backspace)-d.
And now I apparently can’t type “it’s”. I’m not sure I can blame the rabbits for that.
I had that issue. That’s why they are rabid bunnies.
And I blame the jaguar for the i’s.
We moved the couch on Saturday so we can open the doors to the patio. Spade and Gracie now have big screen out TV.
Don’t tell Kitten Thunder. They’ll want us to install double doors.