Well, another weekend has come… and is, despite my best efforts to sleep through it, still here. I’ve been neglecting BLU, so a tardy half-assed blog entry will have to do.
Pete has single-pawedly taken on the roll of Cat, and although he hasn’t yet managed to catch the mouse living under the washing machine, he has at least managed a fine “get off my land” thump and a decent growl (which, uttered from the depths of a ball of white fluff, can only strike fear into the most timid of creatures).
Dorris has clearly been reading the newspapers as well as shredding them, and will now be renamed Amy Winehouse for her bizarre antics. Except without the coke – Dorris much prefers dried mango, fingers, the tip of the dog’s tail, wires, and plastic bags. We are now on stasis watch, although as she’s currently picking a fight with the laundry bag and playing king of the castle on the boxes, I think we can safely assume that Destructobunny will live to destroy another house. Although at the rate she’s going, I’m threatening to take the Bunny Swap too literally and put her in a box marked “f.a.o. Borris The Frog”.
Indigo, who turned six at the end of November, is celebrating his old age by developing psoriasis and being cantankerous. And, if it’s actually possible, sleeping even more than usual.