Goodbye March 2025. You were a good one. No early hot weather, enough dry weather to allow Mom to start spring clean up, and lots and lots of rain that we needed. You added a surprise hail storm or three and a little thunder that no one here liked but made do with the help of toys. No snow and no ice (does hail count as ice?) All in all, March was a good month. We should do this again next year.
We’d spent so much time hoping someone would fill the much needed Patrol Sergeant shoes around here, we didn’t notice Pia had become perhaps the world’s best Gossip/Tattle tail. We should have picked up on that. Every single morning, Dad gets up at oh-dawn-thirty to make coffee for Mom before she leaves for work or gets up a few hours later to make coffee before Mom takes him to work. And every single morning, Pia is by his side the entire time, talking, tattling, pawing his leg, insisting he listen to her. Every single morning.
“Dad, I’m famished. And you know why? He didn’t eat any of his food last night because he was horning in on my food bowl instead. I’m not going to tell you who he is, Dad, but we only have so many boys in this house and it’s not you.”
Dad said he didn’t want to hear about it and was relieved to know she didn’t have anything tattle-worthy about him. “I’ll talk to your brother about it later,” he mumbled.
A few days later, after Viola was exerting some energy digging out a Boink from under the couch, Pia told Dad a certain baby attention hog was being noisy and she knew for certain that was going to lead to some kind of confrontation with sister Tessa who was napping nearby. And that Viola ignored all her glares to stop.
“Pia, Tessa glares at Viola all the time. Viola isn’t fazed in the least. You know, there’s only so many cats in this household, Pia. If you start tattling on everyone, it won’t take long for everyone to know who’s tattling. Do you want that kind of attention? Because I’m thinking the answer is no. Tell me I’m wrong.”
And at that, Pia slinked away for as much as a big floofy cat can slink away. We don’t want to squash her natural tendency to be a gossip but at that early hour of the morning, Dad’s not sure he’s awake enough to take it all in. Not before coffee for certain.
Oh look. Someone shredded cardboard bits all over the floor. And over there, someone left their barf behind. You can bet we know who to ask about all that.
. . . and furthermore, I didn’t see the point of ruining it on top of getting smells all over it. I worked so hard to get rid of those and it smelled sooo good. Then, she just had to barf on it. So, no, Mom, I am not happy. I am not going to be happy. Don’t look for anything resembling happy anytime soon.
Apparently, that new box was a hit with someone but it wasn’t with Viola.
