Cats Love Me

But I don't love cats.

Upon arrival home one day this week, I hear a mewing sound. I have to investigate, because it isn't immediately obvious where the sound is coming from. Finally, I see the little furry yellow cat in the dogwood in our front yard. She has a little bell around her neck and she is terrified. Here little kitty, here little kitty, I say. I reach for her, she fretfully climbs downward toward me, and when she reaches me, uses me as a launching pad down.

It is painful.

The pain from the scratches on my arm and neck is only subdued by the sheer gratitude she shows me. She rubs all over my legs, like I am her hero.

That's how I saw it then, anyway. Now, with the scratches a few days old and itchy, I want to put a hit out on the cute kitty. Seriously.

Otherwise, things are great in "This Old House." A new fence, a new roof, and new appliances -- it's a work zone, but I CAN see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I think I'll be taking Fred's advice on the wallpaper removal. I'll let you all know how the product works.

At least the hounds are THRILLED with the new digs. Maggie just gave me a snuggle.

Yeah. That's what it is all about.
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