Well, unfortunately I think I may have spoken too soon. After pressing the publish button on Friday to post my last blog installment, the skies opened up and it’s been pouring down rain ever since. The blue skies have turned back to gray and the warm temperatures have cooled way down and I’m back wearing my knitted sweaters and furry slippers (oh yes, I have furry slippers). I guess that silly groundhog was right, and it really is going to be closer to April for it to be officially Spring-time. Some days I think I should just pack it up and move down to the Virgin Islands to be with my Tio Tony. From what I hear, days down in the islands are spent sunbathing on the beach, staring out at the clear turquoise-blue waters of the Caribbean, all the while sipping fruity concoctions with little umbrellas in hollowed out pineapples… sounds muy bueno to me. Not at all like my typical day up here in Oregon which mostly consists of shivering profusely under a pile of blankets, staring out the living room window at the howling winds and rain, all the while praying for mi papa to come home soon so I have a warmer lap to sit on and a bowl of plain old tap water to drink… with no little umbrellas, of course. Not exactly living the dream. So if you’re reading this, Tony, I’ve checked my schedule and I’m pretty much free and available to come visit you anytime in the near future… seriously, anytime. I don’t shed much and I eat very little. My poops are fairly small and I sleep a good portion of the day. I’m sort of like a furry, mute newborn, except I can cook meatloaves and bake cupcakes and lick my own eyeball with very little effort. Now if that hasn’t sold you on the idea of my coming down for a visit, well then I don’t know what else will.
Actually I may have one more thing up my sleeve in order to persuade you. I promise if you let me come visit you, I will make you this incredibly delicious breakfast bread every day of my visit. Or at least until you get so sick of it that blueberries and bananas are beginning to seep out through your pores and you beg for some homemade strawberry doughnuts instead. Or a cranberry-pecan coffee cake, perhaps. Or maybe even some apple-cinnamon muffins. Seriously, Tio Tony, whatever you want hombre. Just send me an invite and we can make this happen. In the meantime, drool a little over this lovely baked beauty.
Alright, that’s all the
begging asking politely I can handle for right now. My paws are getting cold from typing and I think mi papa is home to warm me up before bedtime.
Hey, I’m down here Big Guy.