In Which Toby Frolics

My substantial collection of fancy Chinese Art Deco rugs is one of my favorite things I own.  It also suffered from Unfortunate Liquids when my late cat Octavia was so sick these last few week.  And so I shipped all the rugs off to be washed and I'm looking forward to a stinky-free future soon.  

The floor here is that fake wood flooring in a gray taupe non-color that is so popular with all the hip kids who have had their taste eliminated by the internet.  The rugs add a welcome amount of color and texture and keep my little tootsies warm, but I hadn't realized they also have been suppressing my cat Toby's entertainment. 

Since the fake wood floors hard slick surface has been revealed, Toby has been gleefully chasing and pouncing on toys he previously ignored.  The toys skitter in a way that makes him crazy.  I had thought Toby didn't really like toys, but it was just that he didn't have the right arena for his skills. 

Usually whenever I try to interest Toby in some toy time, he looks at me like he's concerned for my mental well-being.  He seems slightly insulted when I throw a ball towards him or try to get him to chase some stuffed little mouse.  And yet, when I later walk back in the room there will be toys scattered everywhere indicating some bacchanal has occurred without me.  It hurts my feelings a little bit.  

But for the next week or so, Toby will have all the hunt and kill enrichment a little kitty could ask for.  That catnip filled iguana had just better watch out. 

Men I'd like to play with:

The admirably meaty Brock Magnus.

There is nothing sexier than a man with pretty hair and a hot pussy who reads.

Humpiness is next to godliness.

Ready to rock.

Proof that I can appreciate aged beef.

Open for business.

Tasty