I want to see this reposted everywhere because Becky is adorable and refused to go into the sea and then this happened and it was cold and hilarious and I’m a terrible, terrible boyfriend.
Silly Amazon. This isn’t the cat I ordered. The cat I picked out online had longer fur. Now I have to send this one back. *sigh* Where’s that duct tape?
So Becky and I took a little visit to a fancy manor house recently. It was a pretty grand estate, formally in the possession of the British Royal Family. I even took a pee where the Queen’s mother used to pee… But don’t tell the queen. It was filled with all sorts of fancy-schmancy paintings and antiques and creepy wax sculptures, but unfortunately I’m not allowed to publish any photos of the interior.
So, in lieu of that, here are some pictures of Becky and I wandering around outside.
So some friends and I went to the woods the other day, and decided that we were going to temporarily form an alt-rock indie band for some pretentious photography. We mostly just use tambourines. Anyway, this is our totally serious, legitimate photo shoot.
… and she calls to tell me that she’s adopted a lost, little kitten from the streets that she found meowing in traffic. So, folks… Meet Sherlock; named as such because we already have a cat named Moriarty; and as you see below, Sherlock is already closing in on the veteran villain…