Christmas with the Mahons

I've been asked not to post this picture on Facebook, since it most likely will be on next year's Christmas card, but I figure that my blog will be safe. Those of you who follow my blog will see it, and then it will fade into oblivion, as newer posts take its place.



This weekend, Fran and I decided to take our dog, Bó, to PetSmart, so that he could have his picture taken with "Santa Claws." The night before, I had the brilliant idea to bring Andy, the family cat, to be a part of the day's festivities.

Here is our memento of the day. Too bad that it was too cold and stressful for our bird--I'm sure that Maggie would have loved to have her picture taken, as well!!

Cat Escapades, Part 3

Last night, I was lying in bed, watching TV. The cat, Andy, was lying on Fran's side of the bed, while my husband was brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed.

When Fran came into the room, he told the cat to move from his side of the bed. No response. He flipped the blanket over him, to see if that would irritate Andy enough to make him move. Nope. So finally, he picked the cat up, dropped him at the foot of my side of the bed, and told him, "My spot." The cat FLEW back to Fran's pillow before he even had a chance to stick a TOE under the covers!! So Fran repeated the procedure: pick up Andy, put Andy at the foot of the bed, and say, "My spot." This time, he beat Andy, lying down on that side of the bed first.

Well, did it faze the cat? Nope. Without missing a beat, Andy promptly changed direction. He walked up to me, rubbed up against my face, and looked at my husband, as if to say, "Your spot; MY girl."

Cat Escapades, Part 2

My husband, Fran, was getting his breakfast this morning. He'd put his bowl of raisin bran on the kitchen table and went to the fridge, which is located next to the table, to get some milk for his cereal. In the time it took for him to turn around to get his milk, the cat, Andy, had jumped up on the table, and was getting ready to stick his nose into Fran's cereal. Predictably, my husband unceremoniously dumped the cat onto the floor.

Later in the morning, Fran was went to walk back into the kitchen from the living room, only to find Andy sitting back up on the table, facing the door and patiently waiting for my husband to see him there. Could it be more obviously a dare?

Pets are like two-year-olds that never grow up.