Sunday morning.
It’s a beautiful, pretty warm spring day. Schnuff and I are just chilling in the hammock, totally relaxed. I dreamed of Avignon and the African savanna. The birds are singing, and I don’t even feel like chasing them. We’re just really content right now. A wise person once said: “If you want to be happy, then renounce useless busyness, empty words, the haste, which is nothing but an unfortunate escape. Take a breath, calm your mind, listen to your life.”
That guy was really smart.
And then, all of a sudden, Schnuffel and I were wide awake, super busy, and in haste: the creaking of the fridge door! Schnuff was faster, and my long legs got all tangled up in the hammock in the chaos. Merde! (“Shit” always sounds better in French).
I finally made it to the kitchen, and our two humans want to cook together this time. Schnuff is already sitting by the door with that puppy-dog look. I’m right next to him with my cat look. Okay, it looks weird, I’ll just leave it. Human 1 asks what they should cook. Human 2 wants something quick. Human 1 looks at me and asks: Cheetahs?
That was NOT FUNNY! Schnuffel was lying under the table, laughing his head off. I strutted away with my head and tail held high. Smirking, since no one could see. Okay, that joke was actually pretty good. As a consolation, we got pasta with wild boar goulash (unfortunately no wildebeest again). A whole big can for each of us, which made me feel better again.
Sunday early afternoon.
A lovely, warm spring day. Schnuff and I are lazily hanging in the hammock, happy and stuffed. But neither of us is really sleeping. Cake time is coming soon. What goes on the cake? Whipped cream. Where do you store whipped cream? Exactly. Always prick up one ear!
