Suppertime

Suppertime, and only ONE cat is outside: a big, muscular, black and
white tuxedo boy I call Sylvester. As usual, I put the crunchies in
several small piles so each cat has food separate from the others.

Sylvester, not believing his luck, ran back and forth between the
various piles, taking a bite here and a bite there. He was in feral cat
heaven, and couldn't make up his mind.


Hugs and Purrs,
Mark

"Mark Edwards" wrote in message
m...
Suppertime, and only ONE cat is outside: a big, muscular, black and white
tuxedo boy I call Sylvester. As usual, I put the crunchies in several
small piles so each cat has food separate from the others.

Sylvester, not believing his luck, ran back and forth between the various
piles, taking a bite here and a bite there. He was in feral cat heaven,
and couldn't make up his mind.


Hugs and Purrs,
Mark

Since he probably has a fairly rough life, it's nice that he could have such
a wonderful experience.

Joy

"Joy" skrev i meddelandet
. ..
"Mark Edwards" wrote in message
m...
Suppertime, and only ONE cat is outside: a big, muscular, black and white
tuxedo boy I call Sylvester. As usual, I put the crunchies in several
small piles so each cat has food separate from the others.

Sylvester, not believing his luck, ran back and forth between the various
piles, taking a bite here and a bite there. He was in feral cat heaven,
and couldn't make up his mind.


Hugs and Purrs,
Mark

Since he probably has a fairly rough life, it's nice that he could have
such a wonderful experience.

Joy

Must have been his birthday. It is nice to reed about a happy cat.
Elisabet

Mark Edwards wrote:

Suppertime, and only ONE cat is outside: a big, muscular, black and
white tuxedo boy I call Sylvester. As usual, I put the crunchies in
several small piles so each cat has food separate from the others.

Sylvester, not believing his luck, ran back and forth between the
various piles, taking a bite here and a bite there. He was in feral cat
heaven, and couldn't make up his mind.

Aww! He didn't know what to do with his sudden good fortune. I guess he's
too used to making do with not enough.

--
Joyce

The average, healthy, well-adjusted adult gets up at seven-thirty in
the morning feeling just terrible. -- Jean Kerr

Bastette wrote:
Mark Edwards wrote:

Suppertime, and only ONE cat is outside: a big, muscular, black and
white tuxedo boy I call Sylvester. As usual, I put the crunchies in
several small piles so each cat has food separate from the others.

Sylvester, not believing his luck, ran back and forth between the
various piles, taking a bite here and a bite there. He was in feral cat
heaven, and couldn't make up his mind.

Aww! He didn't know what to do with his sudden good fortune. I guess he's
too used to making do with not enough.

When Patches adopted me, he was downright obese from freeloading all
over the neighborhood. (Especially next door, where they fed their six
cats - and an occasional raccoon - outdoors.) Once he realized that not
only did I serve better grub, but it was available whenever he wanted
it, he slimmed down considerably.