Frog Applause by Teresa Burritt for January 22, 2019

Look at what the cat just dragged in …!

I never would have guessed it.

(Har-dy har har!)

Nice black kitty! I was just kidding!

Would this be a service cat announcement..

And don’t you forget it!

Oddly enough, Amy the cat who’s black like this one is napping within arms reach behind me in her padded box on her table

boiler suit, to any extent; to some degree, wherever

I guess we know who had Teresa’s tongue … or pen…

Today’s kitty toy news—-Is the glass half empty or half full? Is the drink used or fresh?

I tawt I taw a puddy-tat!

I DID! I DID TAW A PUDDY-TAT!!!

11 comments? Is this even possible? Something is wrong here, terribly wrong.

I know that cat. That cat used to be there. Now it is not there.

I don’t like the way that cat is looking at me.

Somebody needs a bath or at least some grooming.

I missed the whole thing.

Snow was falling gently. Big flakes, wet and heavy, with no memory of salt, or of warm tropical sunshine. Winter couldn’t last forever, and it wouldn’t. But looking out across the empty, frozen marsh, there was no evidence of spring coming soon, or ever. A tiny adjunct of the marsh, a spring-fed pond, held a handful of Canada geese and a throng of mallards. A deep ache owned a part of my leg, souvenir of a summer day long ago and a careless misstep. There is no winter like a winter in Froglandia. The chill eats into your bones and ignites memories of past injuries and feeds an existential dread. Only the lava fields are spared, defiant in the face of winter, raw heart of the planet screaming steam at the sky.

A froggy backlog is the only kind of constipation I am a fan of.