Since Julie Doesn't Read This

Arthur has a rat toy. Personally, I hate those things, even though they obviously aren't real mice, there is something disenheartening to see him walking around with that thing in his mouth while I choke down my low-fat Brown Maple Sugar flavored oatmeal in the morning. But after I got past my initial disgust, I realized he loves that little furry rat like fucker, so I've been throwing it around for him. Mostly, I like seeing him learn how to use his new "gears", because now that he's 8 pounds thinner he has more than one speed. (but I do miss your constant use-Gently Plodding). So last night I'm throwing it around and it bounces right behind Julie's bookshelf. She has 4 very nice tall bookshelves she bought from Elements that are kinda curvy looking, and dot the north wall in our living room. So before I can stop him, he plows headfirst into the bottom rack of books after the rat deal, and the whole bookshelf shakes (and all the nice glass pieces Julie has slide around). Luckily, nothing broke. So Julie runs from the kitchen and asks what the racket was. My response was, "Your cat is a retard," and I walked away. Hey man, I know I threw it, but it's his rat.  I guess this is my way of confessing, even though Julie knows my dumb ass enough that I doubt she bought my story. I didn't bother to confirm.  But since I've been lazy about posting lately, thought I'd throw this out there. Enjoy.