Recently, I acquired two huge bookshelves, which I’ve designated the crime fiction shelves. I’ve been stocking them as I dig through boxes of books and sort out what I want to keep and what I want to (well, not always want to, but should) give away.
The shelves are not my only recent acquisitions…
(Apologies for how gross it is under that vanity. A sadly and recently deceased canine friend was quite hirsute, and I’m pretty tall, so I didn’t notice how nasty it had gotten under there until I bent down to take that photo. It’s much cleaner now, I assure you.)
My housemate found these two fellas in our backyard, starving to death. They had been living under the shed. The initial plan was to take them to a no-kill shelter. That doesn’t seem to have happened yet.
I’ve never considered myself a cat person (quite the opposite), but if Fido Augustus doesn’t mind, I guess I haven’t much ground to complain.
Don't you know that they steal babies' breath?
But if either one of those bastards pisses on my books, off to the kill shelter they go.
This is the first, and almost certainly last, animal post to appear on the hard-hitting tough-guy noir site known as The Violent World of Parker.
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