Early afternoon, chez Yowl.
Her Grace, the Duchess of Yowl: Stop whatever that is you're doing, which is Not Petting Me.
Me: I'm looking at Gail Gilmore's Instagram account.
DoY: Those pictures are dangerous! They will lead you astray. Like thinking a
dog is a person's best friend!
Me: I didn't realize you wanted to be friends with people.
DoY: Well, I want them to pet me. Do my bidding. Bring me tuna.
Me: So, friendly dogs aren't really a problem for you.
DoY: Pictures are just the start! It could lead to watching dog movies! The Lady and the Tramp!
Me: You would never share your spaghetti with anyone?
DoY: Heaven forfend.
Me: So again, not a problem.
Doy: It's a slobbery slope!
Me: I think you might be over doing it a bit here.
DoY: You always have to be alert for Woofer Madness!
16 comments:
Slobbery slope? LOL. Where's the like button!
Thinking the same as Lisa about slobbery slope. Ha! Oh, dear--thinking that from now on, whenever I hear "slippery slope," I'm going to think "slobbery slope," and then I'm going to have to try to keep from laughing, and maybe I won't be able to, and then ...
The other day on our walk, Ulrike and I encountered a big orange cat who was very very interested in us. Said cat might never have seen a pointy dog, I'm not sure. But Ulrike would catch notice of the cat and spin around and sit to stare and the cat would creep closer, and then puppy would move and the cat would run for cover and I'd try to get us a little further down the sidewalk. Eventually we had to continue on (I walk her before work, so have my limits, no matter how cute things are getting), so I had to pick her up and carry her a little bit before we could continue on.
Love Gail's pictures! And I signed up for her mailing list, too.
Yes, Duchess, it is a slobbery slope. Few humans return from it. Your petting could indeed be in danger. Beware the pug, the mutt, or the goofy retriever. They steal hearts like nothing else.
Ah, the slobbery slope. I know it well.
And although I just followed Gail on Instagram, take comfort, dear DOY. I also happen to follow an account called okirakuoki, which is all cats.
I'm joining the slobbery slope contingent. Instant classic. I actually snorted my hot coffee when I read that line. Medical bills to be forwarded to the Duchess, of course.
Wooder Madness!
You made my day.
I can't get enough of the DoY stories! Slobbery slope! And I had to look up forfend
THANK YOU Megan V for listening to TRtB!
Colin Believe it or not, that wasn't my intention- but thank YOU for plugging a pre-order. (had that been my sole purpose, I could've/would've myself)
I definitely have a case of Woofer Madness. Never knew what it was called till now, so thanks, DoY!
I slipped on that slobbery slope, slobbery slope, slobbery slope
I slipped on that slobbery slope and got it on my knee
I slipped again on that slobbery slope, slobbery slope, slobbery slope
I slipped again on that slobbery slope and it got all over me
Reminds me of a great Dane I once knew; absolutely worthless beautiful animal that ate something like 100 pounds of dogfood a week, but boy could she slobber.
Woofer madness. Had a friend who got into the home theater thing. Crammed a massive woofer under the couch. Saved a bunch on his beer bill because you didn't dare try to drink out of one when that woofer was blasting.
"Slobbery slope" has had me grinning all morning.
Duchess of Yowl, you are one cool cat! And take heart! There are lots of folks out there (myself included) who are willing Moggie Servants. We're even deluded enough that we think our felines love us a wee bit in return.
Delightful. Just delightful. Thanks for today's smile.
Like Donna, I had to look up forfend.
I was visiting with a cat-owning friend yesterday. One of her cats loves being patted, but expects you to come to her. She stops just out of arm reach and demands attention, getting louder and louder until you can't ignore her. Of course, once you move to her and started petting, she ups and moves slightly out of reach and the demands start again.
@AJ - the last feline overlord in whose retinue I occasionally served was ferociously demanding. He would rub against human prey, practically begging to be petted. It was a trap. As soon as the unsuspecting victim began stroking His Highness, he would attack, teeth and claws fully engaged. Lovely devil, that boy.
Writer of Wrongs, cats really do rule, don't they.
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