Andres Torres in Our Thoughts
Very sad to see this news. Torres will always be a special Giant.
When one of my numerous pussfolk snags a mouse, i always inquire “how was the brent mouseburger?” After years of close study i’m nowhere near being able to translate their responses into anything vaguely resembling English, but sometimes their looks say far more than words would anyway. Seems they’re quite fond of em.
From time to time temptation urges me to do something about a catchy book title that nudged its way into my consciousness: “Life in a Cathouse”. Some readers, i fear, would be disappointed with the lack of salacious episodes. Certain cat-fanciers would not approve of my language. Oh well.
Doggone it! Can’t leave out Macoozhoe. He’s chief enforcement officer around the place. He’s responsible for keeping the bam-bam-Bambis outta the gardens and shrubbery. Tough job, as he lost his running-mate, big black Mac, the half Lab, half Rott about three months back. Minnesota deer-hunting season ended yesterday evening, so no more gut-piles for the sandy-brown Oouff. Back to the grrrumbles outta the sack.
Gotta stop by the backside of the local custom-butcher this coming week, where there is free access to his barrels of bones, trimmings and cuttings which get picked up weekly by a rendering plant about 130 miles south. No money changes hands either way so the pickings are free and none too slim. With Winter soon about to settle in up here, weather’s cool enough so that a modest accumulation of the stuff in the back of the Blue Whale (’87 GMC 1-ton van rusting away in piebald rusty retirement) won’t stink up the place too bad and it will keep local law enforcement vs the Bambinese in a happy mood. Ditto the outdoor catclan.