Oh what a wonderful weeks it’s been! Two of my most beloved bloggers got Freshly Pressed!
And it couldn’t have happened to two of the very nicest people on the internet! They are both barrels of fun, and if you haven’t had the pleasure of following along with them as they cleverly navigate through the www (Wacky Waters of Wisdom) –then get your sorry keyboard over their right now!
And because it’s Friday morning, that means it’s time to start greasing the wheels of the Lazymobile! What better way to do that than to be lazy and post something from the archives of this blog. Perhaps, Dear Reader, you might enjoy:
Oh So Precious Pet Stories
Our beloved and precious Snitz was a vivacious goldfish with volumes of get up and go and a heart as big as all get out. Her high-spirited antics and fuzzy little carbonated smile would keep us all aglow through many a hard time.
That is why when our cat, Fritz, knocked over Snitz’s water and played with Snitz until she was just a limp little reminder of better days, we rushed right out and bought another goldfish.
And even though we have another vivacious goldfish with volumes of get up and go and a heart as big as all get out, we did learn a good lesson.
You really can’t tell one goldfish from another.
A Skunk by Any Other Name
I named my pet skunk Trouble because I could smell him a mile away.
At first I thought it would be cool to name him Maltese in memory of my pet falcon. But then I thought there really wasn’t much similarity between my pet falcon and my pet skunk except they both came running when I called “here kitty, kitty.”
I’ll never forget the day I found Trouble in the park. There was something in his air and manner of walking . . . I knew he had to be mine. I quickly snatched him up and ran down the path and into the street where I was hit by a bus.
Trouble flew out of my arms and landed 5,280 feet away and that’s when I noticed that even though all my arms and legs were broken, I could still smell Trouble. So I guess my choice of names was right on!
Oh Danny Boy
I know it has been said that a hamster by any other name would be a rodent and there was a time when I would have agreed with that. That is until Danny saved my life. I was hiking in the Rockies at the time. Of course, I took Danny along because he was a hunting hamster with papers.
I had just sat down to catch my breath when I saw a coiled rattler only inches from Danny and me.
Then, in the blink of an eye, it was just the rattler and me. It seems a hawk had swooped down and got poor Danny. As I watched him dangle from the hawk’s powerful talons, I stood up to give Danny a farewell salute.
Just then the rattler bit me. And that’s when Danny . . . wait a minute . . . well, never mind about the part where I said Danny saved my life.
Until next time . . . I love you