I had been in the craft room, de-garbaging, (see, yes I am working on a resolution or two... Which ones, you ask? Sorry, not tellin', yet), and Husband encouraged me to come outside because it was gorgeously sunny. I had to admit, I agreed.
We walked outside, and the llamas were out in the front pasture. Husband asked if I was going to feed them. I told him perhaps a little hay, but they already had enough for the day. We walked up to Ding Dong, and she kept glancing at me, then Husband, as if she was expecting something. Husband then went over, softly calling to her, and reached a hand out, to let her sniff.
That's when she spat, and hit him absolutely squarely on the face.
Um. Well. That didn't go so well. Husband seemed more inclined to stay away from the fence after that.
I had asked Husband if he'd see Brutus. The cat hadn't come in for breakfast, and I hadn't seen him the night before. Being that you can HEAR him, before you can SEE him, and he will not miss a meal if he has to walk the length of the place for it, this is unusual. Husband said he hadn't, so I went looking.
Sadly, I found him, he'd died. He was a big kitty, so it took pretty good hiding place to get him more or less invisible. This didn't help getting him out. But, I was able to get him taken care of, and I buried him near the bamboo, on the other side, across from Jack Cat.
I was a bit down, and was commenting to husband that it was going to be lonely here with no kitties. Our youngest is 16, so geriatrical guessing, I don't think they will last a great while longer. And my husband has cat allergies.
He pipes up, and says, no, we'll get another couple barn cats, as long as I don't have to care for them, I haven't had any problems, and we need them for getting rid of mice.
Ah, Husband. Always pratical.
So, as Paul Harvey says, 'Stand by for NEWS!'