A disproportionate amount of space on this blog has been devoted to the adorable and occasionally gross Capt. Nap (see: "Poo Paws: Capt. Nap's Cure for Fatigue" and "Thank You for Vomiting, Napoleon"). Today, I will begin to remedy that apparent show of favoritism by devoting an entire post to blaming some stuff on Squeaky.
In fact, I will let pictures tell the story. Below is a collage of our friend Squeaky, which I believe amply illustrates what I'm talking about:
|"Want me to move so you can unpack your really important medicine and get it into the fridge? No can do! This is a nice perch!"|
|"Trying to get some writing done? Fuggetaboutit." (I was later told that, charming as this pose is, it is NOT good for the laptop. Any damage: Squeaky's fault.)|
|"Oh, you want to make the bed? Check me out! I'm too cute to move. Plus, I'm warm and comfortable. Begone with you!"|
|"Planning to, er, recycle these trashy magazines? Sorry!"|
|"This trashcan stays RIGHT HERE! I'm looking at something."|
|"Hey! What are you doing now? Want to play? Is it dinnertime yet? Is it dinnertime yet? What about now?"|