I know it’s supposed to be Spring but we’re getting some snow tomorrow. Probably not much – just enough to let us know who is in charge. I know it’s not me. 🙂
The animals take turns trying to direct the course of events and upset my plans. I don’t know why I bother making any except that it gives me a brief feeling of control.
One plan I intend to see to fruition – come the proverbial hell or high water – is to make sure Fish gets to the Vet on the 14th. He is finally scheduled to achieve a neutral state of being (euphemisms are important to conceal the true purpose of this visit from him).
I have set July as the target for Ciaran. Unfortunately Mother Nature isn’t willing to wait. Puberty has arrived, testicles have dropped, and he’s found a compelling need to spray things.
The men are heading out on Thursday to set their lobster traps as the Spring Season begins. I’m thinking he could sign on as crew – work off those hormones somewhere far from this house and make some money.
He owes me now for 2 camera lenses and should be paying for all the extra cleaning supplies required these days. It’s a good thing he’s cute – although Fergus and Duff aren’t even convinced of that at the moment. 🙂
This Fundy Migrant's Tale 