Kill Scooter Libby
In the continuing evidence of socioeconomic disadvantage = loudness, a bunch of fourteen year old boys were riding scooters up and down our street from about 2-3 a.m. on Friday night. If you have never heard a scooter motor, it sounds like the cross between a chainsaw and a badly-oiled lawnmower. Though I have always been in support of gun control, that one hour that I lay there wishing the deaths of those adolescents has me fully convinced that there should be a long waiting period to buy a handgun. Where are their parents? Are they drunk, passed out, high, staying the night somewhere else, all of the above? You'll hear a gaggle of young girls walking by at 1 in the morning in their flip-flops too. And then yesterday, the scooter was out again full force, a baby was crying, someone was banging a chain link fence, and cars were roaring by every ten seconds. Shut up!
In the meantime, the cats continue to romp and even eat together. It's a relief that they get along. But who wouldn't love this (completely unposed!) thing:
Except sometimes, he does naughty things, like climb into the rafters:
And here is the photo of Shawn, me, and Zena making it possible for Ernesto (his name, it appears) to have a huge jungle gym above our heads in the kitchen:
And here is the kitty who I still miss with all my heart (and who would beat the shit out of the new cat):
In the meantime, the cats continue to romp and even eat together. It's a relief that they get along. But who wouldn't love this (completely unposed!) thing:
Except sometimes, he does naughty things, like climb into the rafters:
And here is the photo of Shawn, me, and Zena making it possible for Ernesto (his name, it appears) to have a huge jungle gym above our heads in the kitchen:
And here is the kitty who I still miss with all my heart (and who would beat the shit out of the new cat):
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