Touch us gently, Time!

We've not proud nor soaring wings:

Our ambition, our content,

Lies in simple things.

Bryan Waller Proctor

UPDATE: STRUTZ
Yo, Count, as you can see I’m beginning to talk like my trucker buddies.
I guess it’s ‘cause I’m around them so much, and I’m so well known now
in trucker circles that they all love to give me a saucer of milk and talk to me.
I think I’ve become a sort of a shotgun-seat psychologist to these men
and women. Out on Interstate 39, rolling along at 70 per, next stop 350
miles away, they start to unburden themselves to me. Their love life,
their divorces, their children, their operations, their goals, their
bills, and the price of gas. Of course, being a cat, a superior creature,
it’s hard to grasp their problems and concerns, especially the price of gas.
So, every time we make a stop at the rest area, I take care of my business
And go over to the store to see if I can con them out of a saucer of milk before
my trucker comes along and buys me a can of (YUK!) evaporated milk.
At any rate, I go to the door of the restaurant and a trucker or two will come
along and let me in and I run back to the kitchen and do my act and the
cooks give me treats and then put me out the back door. Then I run around to
my truck and wait for my good buddy to come back and…
“We’re On the Road Again!”
Mercy! Strutz the Cat

Being and quirkiness: How vs why?

Being and quirkiness: How vs why?

Pretty Mollie met Ollie on the trolley,

Her friend Polly said, "By golly,"

"He'd be my folly, if were you, Molly!"

"But", said Molly "I date Wally."

"I'll take him!" said Polly,

Now, it's all so jolly,

Riding on the trolley'

With Polly and Wally,

Mollie and Ollie.

C.S.

Sweet and Sour: Untitled

Sweet and Sour: Untitled

Hello again Count! I'm somewhere east of I95 and west of I45 in other words the cat is lost. But I have to say that truckers are wonderful people as humans go (No slight intended to you), and they have treated me very well. They get me saucers of milk, and even cans of food and I get to ride shotgun with them in their cabs. They talk to me as we ride along. It's a lonely job and they welcome company. I pick one at the truck stop who seems to be going the way I want to go and I wait until the driver comes out and I go up and rub his leg (see picture)...I then walk over to his truck and climb up on the running board and meow loudly. Well, they get the message, open the door and let me hop in.I sit up there looking out like I know what I'm doing. They rub my head and call me "Buddy" and we hit the road. As we are rolling down the highway, they rub my head and tell me their problems. My presence, and I am a large, handsome cat, seems to relieve the stress of piloting one of these giant ships of commerce. God bless 'em, they are a hardy, generous, group of humans and I see a truck stop coming up at a small town that looks interesting. I may have to leave my new friend Bubba behind and check it out. Oh, meant to tell you, the downtown mansion I was interested in at the last stop was a dud. Its owner was a little, old gray-haired lady who had a house full of (Yuk!) Yorkshire Terriers! So, I'm sitting here with Bubba thinking of Fluffy.

Hope to let you know how this burg works out the first the week.

Strutz the Cat