Picnic and the poor cat

Joined my “old” friend and her kids for a picnic and frolicking at Metcalf bottoms.

We walked.


We looked.


We walked some more.


We snacked.

The kids wallered in the creek.


Then the kids slept. (I know the chest clip is low. She was trying to escape and pulled it down)


This afternoon after a farm trip when  me and the ratbabies were outside, they were suspiciously quiet. So I walked over to see what exactly they were doing.

It was the poor cat. Under a wire basket flower container. Being fed cereal (not exactly against her will….I may add) with grimy little hands.

Poor cat. I made them turn her loose and we talked about “NOT putting kitty under the flowerpot again”.

Even if she’s hungry and doesn’t know it.
Even if it’s easier to pet her like that.
And any other ” even ifs” I could think of.


Poor cat is a saint.


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