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Today is not only the Fabulous MrZ's actual 21st birthday, but also that of my brother, the strange and acerbic Queued [who I can't get to LJ-link right, dammit.]




He's doing great, and he's even adapting to Texas well. He still stomps around the house yelling, as both Siamese cats and old dudes do. I assumed what he was saying was, "Ethel! Where are my glasses? Ethel! Where are my pants?" Of course, now that we're in Texas, he's had to make a few adjustments: "Maria! Donde esta my pants? Maria! Donde esta my soul jar? I could go at any minute... Mao..."

We didn't let him vote, even though he's of age, since he keeps ranting about Taft and demanding we bring back Eisenhower.

Not bad for a cat that just a few years ago had chewed off all his fur and was so threadbare he looked like the Velveteen Rabbit. Go MrZ.

My brother, on the other hand, seems perfectly capable of locating his own pants, and has never had dust come off him when you patted him as far as I know.

Happy Birthday, dudes.

Comments

bronx_baroness
Nov. 12th, 2008 01:24 am (UTC)
One scarcely recognized His Imperial Catness since I last saw him! He is almost a fat happy cat. Bless you woman for loving him back to life.

And yes, I am still wiping tears from my face from laughing so hard!
"where is my soul jar, I could go at any minute!" It so reminds me of "back in bowl??"