🙂 Happy Friday 🙂
Sometimes the best of friends in one’s life are furry.
This is Festie, and I so enjoy photographing him. I don’t ever remember taking a bad picture of this fellow, which is not to say I’m a good photographer. He’s just very photogenic. He actually poses, almost always looking cool and serene. As if waiting on cue for someone to shout, “Make-up! Lights, camera….ACTION!”
On this particular photo shoot, Festie and I sojourned down to the creek. Its about a quarter mile from the house and, if I do not want him to follow me, I have to sneak down the hill. Otherwise, my little 10 pound pussycat shows off the labrador retriever I am certain is part of his mix. He complains all the way down the hill and all the way out to creek: “Meow, meow, meow”… translates to “slow down, slow down, slow down”. So I let him catch up to me, and off we go again. He jumped up on to a fallen tree here, posing and peering intently across the meandering creek waters.
My BFF. 🙂
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
The Gettysburg Address, President Abraham Lincoln
…is this what the secret service entourage would look like?
Lol. This is just tickled my funny bone. The women in the sunglasses look particularly serious. I can only imagine, if a woman were president, perhaps we would be better at multi-tasking…exercising, taking our children for a bicycle size AND assuring world peace.
One can dream. 😉 Happy Monday.
Having taken and sorted through quite a few photos from our recent trip, I hadn’t been out to shoot since our return. It takes me a bit of time to recover and reintegrate myself in to a routine. In addition to this, my husband returned home with me, only to turn around and head back south with two of our backpacking friends for a 100 mile jaunt. This entailed quickly washing clothes and resupplying food, as well as changing out some heavier items for a few lighter ones. A little hectic, but we made it.
I was able to get out this weekend for a few hours. I picked up a regular sized John’s Wildwood pizza (best pizza, ever), and took a little tour around the state university town of Edinboro. I took at least five photos per slice downed. I cannot resist a setting sun and, this particular time, it was setting in a beautiful location right on the university campus.
This picture just makes me smile.
My cat, Festie, who believes he is a dog. He follows me wherever he can when I am outside. I have to sneak by if I want to hike in the woods below our house without him. I’ve often started out, only to hear him loudly meowing as I am half way down the trail, seemingly offended because I left without him.
He is sitting on my lap right now, getting mad because I am typing instead of giving him my undivided attention.
I have just finished receiving my nightly bath. This consists of approximately five or six sandpaper licks across my forehead, the rubbing of his cheeks across my face, followed by the soft, affectionate biting of my nose. He then repeats with a few more licks and at least one more gentle bite. He is purring the whole time. This means he’s having fun. I, on the other hand, now have about one thousand cat hairs electrically stuck to my face which I will, over the course of the next half hour, ingest one by one. “Extra roughage,” my husband assures me. “Not to worry.” No consolation when I am coughing up the hairball at 2 am.
Festie has a nickname. I’m not sure if I am allowed to share it here, seeing as though this is a blog and others can read it–but I’ll take a chance. It’s “Shitty Pants”. Yes, that’s right: Mr. Shitty Pants.
He’s earned this nickname time and again. Festie, you see, does not like car rides. Nowadays, however, the veterinarian does not make house calls. And when we travel, the kennel we use is thirty minutes away. Every time–yes, every time I’ve had to take this beautiful, wonderful, affectionate creature for shots or to the kennel, he takes a huge and odiferous dump in the car. A monsterous, eye-watering, gagging poop. Sometimes twice.
The first time, I was caught off guard. We had taken him to the vet and were, I’m not kidding, no more than a half mile from our driveway. He started to cry and fuss and then, wham–all over me (yes, he was in my lap). Once in the driveway, my husband did not even bother to turn off the ignition before leaping out and away from the smelly mess that was me.
We now take a litter box in the car with us and, politely, Festie uses it. It is still horrendous, but I crack the windows all the way to kennel.
My husband rides in the other car with the dogs.
It’s good to be loved 🙂