Yep. He’s done birds, mice, and today, he’s stepped up his game. I opened the garage door, and instantly noticed the rabbit. Even before I recognized Toby next to him, I said “Toby!” in the same voice your mom used when she found you covering your face in marker.
It’s hard to express my feelings. Part of me is disgusted. There is a large, dead animal in my garage after all. Another part of me is flattered. He brought his kill home to me. The other part of me is IM-PRESSED. Those rabbits are fast. And that thing is nearly as big as he is. I mean, how did he kill it?
Best part is he just kinda sat there, looking around like, “What, this? Oh, yeah, I did that. No big deal. You know, whatever.” His panting gave him away though. He worked hard on that one.
Here’s hoping he doesn’t bring home the great dane from next door in the following weeks.
Note: The only people who will understand who this reminds them of are my close family, because I can’t link you to a nearly identical video of my nephew, because my sister is convinced that if you see that video, you will find her name and address and hunt down and steal her son.
Ah spam. Sometimes automated mail can send you some interesting information. For instance:
For those of you who don’t get it, you should read this post. It’ll make sense pretty quick.
Today, my sister, Margaret Page
Bullard Burris (they’re so close, it’s so hard to remember!) is turning 29 years old.
I’m not sure if you’re aware, but 29 is only 12 short months away from 30, which, from what I understand, is pretty much death. Maybe not so much death, but certainly on the down hill portion of the ride. I write this not to be mean or foreboding, but rather to encourage Page to live this next year like no other. Hopefully once she stops hobbling around she can begin her 29th year here on earth with a bang. A metaphorical bang, not the sound of a toe sending a laundry basket flying across a laundry room. I hope she spends this next year enjoying the wonderful blessings she’s been given, cause she’ll probably be too old to remember anything next year. Then again, she’s already got like, 90 cats, so maybe she should cash out early and just become the crazy cat lady that kids dare each other to talk to. That could be fun if you approached it with the right attitude.
Well Page, you know all this mean sarcasm is my emotionally stunted way of saying I love you. I hope you enjoyed your 28th year, but I hope you enjoy your 29th even more. I hope I get the chance to spend some of it with you.
And I hope Chandler doesn’t cut your life short by sitting on your face while you’re asleep or something.