I got back in the car, reached inside our bag for my camera and took a couple of pics of Charlie. The girls shrieked with joy as he began playing, flipping over in the grass and swatting with his paws.
Charlie had a mouse. The nice tranquil scene I had observed was of Charlie toying with his latest kill. (Although, with all the commotion, I think his prey may have escaped.)
One of Skip's colleagues has been apprised of our loss of Brownie, and she lobbied for a replacement cat. Of course, there is no replacement for Brownie. There will never be another cat that sees me through my 20's; flies with me, cross-country, twice; and takes naps with me when I am pregnant with twins. Aside from that, as Skip says all the time, "He's no Brownie. I wasn't a huge fan of Brownie, but that? That trifling cat is no Brownie."
He's not regal like Brownie, that's for sure. But, he is cute, nonetheless, in a street-cat, kind of way:
2 comments:
There will NEVER be another Brownie! Just like there will never be another Henry. But your brother thought Cool Foot was the one. But he is finding out he is not. You can never replace certain pets.
Poor Henry! No, that ratty little "cool Foot" is not the stately dog that Henry was. Oh my goodness, no, not even close.
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