Dear Diary:
You wouldn't think cats would be bothered by Mondays, but the truth is, we notice the primal habits of our hoomons change with the start of the week. Fur instance, Monday is trash day. The truck arrives at the Crack of Dawn, and unless Dadders rolls outta bed before that dawn cracks, we all get to enjoy our garbage for another three days. And let me reassure you, our household makes more garbage than ANY other house on our block.
How do we know? Our neighbors all have ridiculously small trash cans. Almost the size of an office wastebasket. Whereas we have a minimum of four tall-size trash bags, plus a few filled boxes of odds and ends. Why so much? Because there are eleventy-zillion of us in residence, and we are still in the act of purging stuff from old house.
Anyway! Having the garbage around to enjoy a few extra days effects Dadder's good humor, especially when Mommers points out that he's now "retired" and the event of getting the trash to the curb on time should be treated like making it to work by 8 a.m., something he did for most of his adult life.
Before you ask why he doesn't curb the garbage the night before, Dadders says Trash Pandas will spread it all over the street. Back at our old house Mom fed the Trash Pandas and they loved her enough to not bother the cans. But here she only tosses apple cores for the rabbits and deer, so the raccoons have called War. Yes, we have plastic garbage bins, but for some curious reason, Dadders removes the bags from the bins and drags them to the curb.
Both me and Mommers plan to invite Jane Goodall over to study this questionable behavior.
Note To Self: Find out who this Jane Goodall is.
Rabbit, so furry nice to meet you. So you live in Sunshine state? We had sun today fur the furst time in 10 days. But 18 degrees so no open door fur sun puddle yet. I am jealous. I am also afraid of all the loud trucks that drive by and some times stop. But I spend lots of time under the bed. Precious
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