Alright, so I went and got me-self a good camera today, and now all you people who squawked for doggie-pictures will be appeased, neh? =P
Name is Rocco (courtesy of my sisters), and he's very good with cars.
Someone was making dinner.
Contempt? or bright flash?
Just finished his walk.
However, I can't let that go without showing off the rest of the crew. They're my people, after all, and despite him being a Corgi I doubt I'll be able to feel as much for him as them. If he were a big dog, maybe, but that's beside the point. So here's the three currently in residence.
Buster, also known as the Old Man. We got him less than six months after we moved here, which would be about late '98, and he was about three then. Probably the politest cat ever—he'll pat your leg and look inquiringly at you when he wants your lap, and his miaow is nonexistent unless he's trapped on the wrong side of a door—and yet he ruled the neighborhood with an iron paw. He'd come home some nights with a torn ear or something superficial, and I'd go out biking and find some other cat looking like it just came out of the M*A*S*H ward.
(Also the best picture I think I took today.)
George, one of the orange triplets; he swapped out with his brother about three weeks ago, and we expect Lucky to return sometime or other. George is a little skittish, but he's a sweetheart, and once he gets over the instant "it's gonna kill me" reaction, he'll practically melt onto your leg. Very pleasant miaow.
Shadow, the queen and my feline adorer. She will literally perk up at my mere presence in the room, and if she sees me sit down she makes a beeline for my leg. Mom? Dad? Nah. Any of the sisters? O hai, I has a sleepy nao; go 'way. Me? Instant hug.
And yes, that is my real leg. I am corporeal after all.
