Miss Mia Sopaipilla has clearly been overexposed to Islamic socialism, Christ-free “holiday” seasons and the liberal media.
This morning, after brazenly toasting her po-po on our DSL modem she stalked into the living room and ruthlessly deposed The Man — the snowman, that is, the one that this time of year sits atop the subwoofer to our home theater system.
Oh, the humanity. Snowmanity. Sean Hannity. Whatever.
Mad Blog Media 
I like her style.
Isabella, the feline terror in this household, regularly walks up to the Christmas tree to ‘punch’ an ornament of danish shoes that she has ill feelings for apparently. Just one punch and she walks away. Until the next time the mood strikes her.
O, Miss Mia Sopaipilla is a terror. Every now and then she sees something she finds vaguely disquieting — she cautiously slinks up to it, all stretched out and eyes open wide, draws back a paw, and jabs it, which must be the feline equivalent of an artilleryman firing one for effect. But as regards our redneck sheriff snowman, she simply jumps on his fat ass and goes to town.
I think Mia has problems with authority. Can’t imagine where she learned that.
Better the snowman than the alternative. 14 inches of snow in York PA got his royal dudeness, Spritz, obsessed with going outside to check it out. Which lasted about 2 minutes until he discovered it was cold out there and his paws were affected. So it went from “Meeowt!” to “Meein!”, and he’s now batting at all the ornaments he can reach. He was hot to climb the tree until he discovered that sticky shit that got on his paws. I swear that cat’s got a thing about pristine paws.
Love it!! Our 15-year kitty threatens to knock down the xmas tree every year, mainly because it’s where he likes to sunbathe. I think he finally has learned the tree is really a bit more that he can mess around without getting hurt and so avoids completely. But oh the Christmas Carols he can sing when he’s mad. Take care all and have a wonderful respite from the cubicles.
About time you quit talking about boring bike stuff and slipped in some pussy tales.
Oh, by the way, thanx for a year full of giggles and grins, and the sporadic jab at reality.
Happy Solstice.
These cats is weird critters. I do like ’em, though — they’re both individuals, with enough personality for their own TV talk shows.