Rocky, the Rabid Raccoon.
This little fellow was perched on a stick in a vintage record store. Yes - a place that sells vinyl LP’s, just like the 350 or so that I have moldering in the Basement d’Elisson. But why buy an old, scratched-to-hell copy of Jefferson Airplane’s Volunteers when you can take this rabid-looking beast home with you to scare the snot out of peddlers?
Say hello to Amelia.
Meet Amelia, the resident Mascot-Kitty at Terra Cotta, one of the Mistress’s old haunts just off of Broughton Street. Houston Steve and I were perfectly happy to give Amelia a little skritchy-love, the which helped keep us from going insane while the wimmin looked at shoes, dresses, and handbags. Gahhhh.
Posts
2 comments:
Ohhh... a torbie....
Skritch. Skritch. Cuddle. Melt....
Do not go gently into the fading light.
I am hitting 200,000 visits in the next 20 hours or so.
If you’re no is no 200,000 I will spend a whole post slagging you and why you should not be the next president. Now that is worth more than 200,000 of Sierra Leone, leones.
So as they say in Chicago and Freetown, visit soon and visit again and again.
Post a Comment