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Hey Winston. It's cool that you're interrupting me as I write this, by banging your head against my hands as I type and purring your furry little head off. That's not the issue. No, my issue is that you've learned that you can jump from the front garden to the tiny porch above our front door, and then up to my bedroom window, which is your way of telling me that you need to be let in. Problem is, I have no way of knowing you're attempting this until I hear *LEAP SCRATCH SCRATCH THUD* as you jump up to my window, realise it's not open, and fall back down onto the porch top. This often happens at 3-4am, hence why I'm writing this post at this time. Startles the poo poo out of me, every single time.  Here’s a pic of the little shitbag, for essay tax
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Jan 17, 2023 05:03
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| # ¿ May 9, 2024 20:05 |
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