Monday, April 28, 2003
Joe and I are taking a break from shaving Liza, his ghost-white cat. Whew. We’ve got a sofa cusion covered with a blanet out on top of the stone grill in the back yard. Joe mans the electric razor. I hold the squealing, squirming, biting animal tight down against the cushion. The din produced by the cat finally reached enough of a pitch for us to decide to give her a break.
We wonder what the neighbors might think we’re up to, doing such horrible things to a cat right on top of the grill…
Oy. Wish I had a digital camera for this one.
