Woodstock moved in with us Friday. This evening he was sleeping on the rug in the front parlor. Tibbit pretended not to notice. When she believed no one was watching, she sampled a small taste of Woodstock. Delicious. Hamish interrupted the tasting, as he is of the opinion that that Woodstock flavors belong only to the elder dog. Hamish spent a little time with Woodstock, lulling the little bird into a calm. Hamish says that Woodstock’s succulence is improved when the fear adrenaline no longer courses through Woodstock. Don’t be fooled little Woodstock. Your time is nigh.
We all celebrate Valentine’s love in our way. I prefer mine with less evisceration.