An anecdote: Nelson has a sporadic fondness for getting into packages of stuff. Didn't do it all the time, but when he did he went balls out. Once, returning after being out for the day, his parents found a kitchen with every inch and surface besmirched with some sort of powder...evidently, the baby-proofed lazy susan cabinet was not sufficiently bolstered against canine cunning. The powder turned out to be belgian waffle mix. My nephew, trying to issue a triumphant "look what I did!" was so internally caked-up with flour he couldn't even bark: he just went "harumff! fuff! woomf!" and sent little clouds of dust from his wheezing trap.
Los gatos hang in, though. Biscuit has to be close to fifteen. Hyperthyroid, and the thyroid medicine is causing some hair loss, but otherwise she's quite content, if she can stay clear of her idiot sister. Biscuit is also releasing her autobiography/inspirational tome this spring:
Picci, though to call even her semi-literate would be a mite overgenerous, tries to emulate big sister in most things, so is also trying her paw at the art of memoir:
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