Can you remember the first time you went up the stairs–on your own? I remember the first time I fell down the stairs, but the first time going up… lost in the mists of time.
Here are kittens trying to climb the stairs for the first time. Their mother’s up at the top, so they can see her. And one by one, they manage it–except for this last little kitten who looks like maybe he won’t make it.
As I was trying to get myself back on schedule today, I chanced to look out the window just in time to see a delivery man coming with… another box from Chewy.
I had to bring it in and unpack it. Oof! Too heavy to pick up. Too big and awkward. What’s in it–a dead body? Great start to a mystery novel, The Cat-Food Killings. With Hercule Poirot going totally mad from all the cat hair on his clothes.
Open the box to find out what’s in it! (Just like Obamacare!) Hot dog, another half a dozen big bags of cat litter. I’m sure we have enough to fill our bathtub now. Plus a few cartons of canned food and three sleeves of Fancy Feast. Now all I have to do is find places to put them.
How many cats do they think we have? Really, there are only two.
(Note: Please disregard the human who horns in on this video toward the end. He is not supposed to be there.)
The little white dog wants to fight, but he’s too lazy to get up so he barks while reclining on his side. I’ve never seen a dog bark from that position before. The big dog occasionally twitches his ears: a sign of consciousness.
Guys, you’re not gonna be able to sell many tickets to this fight.
I could hardly wait to read this chapter; but as usual, Violet Crepuscular’s literary genius has thrown us a curve ball.
“Dear Reader,” she introduces Chapter CCCLXIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, “I simply must share with you my romantic evening with my neighbor, Mr. Pitfall, who has quite forgiven me that episode of inadvertent but well-nigh fatal poisoning. In short, we had a date!”
I don’t see how it could have been much of a date. Mr. Pitfall insisted on dinner at their local Alternative Foods restaurant–“Their termite puffs are out of this world!” exults Ms. Crepuscular–but when he discovered they had only curbside takeout service, she writes, “That lovable Pitfall temper flared up again and he began pounding on the door, demanding to be let in for a proper sit-down dinner. One thing led to another, until finally the romantic silly man was dragged off by police. I might have been arrested, too, had not my lively writer’s imagination inspired me to pretend I was the mayor.” Way to go–why didn’t I think of that?
And so, with the chapter already more than halfway over, we come to the wicked medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney, cursing all of Scurveyshire by repealing the law of gravity.
You might have expected that all the shire’s people, animals, and buildings would float straight up until they left the earth behind and were lost in outer space. That is what usually happens when you repeal the law of gravity. “Imagine the sorcerer’s surprise and disappointment,” writes Ms. Crepuscular, “when nothing happened! It seems this is one of those spells that must be regularly practiced in order to get it right. So this time its only effect was to grow rather unsightly beards on The Lying Tart’s bar maids–and one of them already had a beard, so so what? A most discouraging failure for Black Rodney!”
So what about the aristocratic thief, Sir Robin Banks, hiding out in an uninhabited wing of Coldsore Hall, just across the hall from the room where Crusty the crusty butler has hidden Lady Margo Cargo’s priceless glass eyes and family jewels?
“I will take up those matters,” Ms. Crepuscular promises, “after I find some way to raise bail for Mr. Pitfall. He gets so downhearted when he’s in that holding cell!”
G’day! Byron the Quokka here, to inquire–that’s why we call it “The Inquiring Quokka”–what readers want, to keep you coming to this blog.
This is the official blog of Quokka University. Ipso loquitor mannimota! We have already gathered on the Quad–yes, we have a quad now!–to hear Grady the Tongue-Tied Wallaby read us the latest chapter of Oy, Rodney. I refuse to believe that rumor that Lee has been offered money to stop writing Oy, Rodney.
Now, it was our editorial decision to try to do the weekend without nooze, even though there was nooze to write about. Everybody’s saying they’re fed up, worn out, torpid, waiting for the next shoe to drop (and you know it’ll be bad), and losing interest in all sorts of things, including blogs.
So I am here to inquire: what would you readers like to see here, at least for the time being, till things get back to normal. No, not “the new normal!” They can all go fap with that. I’ve got the job of getting the readership pumped up again, so this is my market research. I am the first quokka ever to do market research! I know a tree frog who did some, once, but he has since forgotten all about it.
Many of us launch and retrieve our boats by way of public boat launch ramps. It’s not really that hard to do, provided you remember not to launch your car into the water, too. This simple principle seems to have eluded the boat owners in this video.
Problems can also arise when your trailer isn’t strong enough to bear the weight of your boat. It’s not a good thing when your trailer collapses and the wheels come off. It’s something you should have checked before you went boating. An ounce of prevention’s worth a pound of cure, etc.
Our safari today takes us out the front door and into the yard–no need to go any farther.
Jambo, boys ‘n’ girls! Mr. Nature here, with the hairy bittercress–a weed that grows right here in my own yard. And when it’s ripe, any little disturbance will cause it to shoot its seeds in all directions. It’s a kind of natural shotgun.
You might have some hairy bittercress handy, never having noticed it before. Give it a nudge and see what happens! (Disclaimer: nothing will happen if it isn’t ripe yet. Or if you just called somebody over to show him something cool.) Anyway, it’s fun to touch these plants and see them do their stuff.
I am told you can use hairy bittercress in your salad, but I’m not ready to trust it that far.
The way they heard it, Goldilocks was a bear who wandered into the house of The Three Humans and tried out all the hammocks.
Momma Bear and two cubs get the most out of this hammock. Meanwhile, I’d like to know what that thing is in the background. Has someone partially buried an old brass bed? Something spooky about this whole scene…
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It “is” Censershipp waht maid the combunits cuontries So Grate,, “and” How can yiu evver has Sosiallism iff thare “is” No Censershipp???
My Nothing Studdies prefesser she sayed waht we “reely knead” is somb Masheen “that” gets hooked Up “to” yore Brane and wil Give yiu a Lectrick Shock wenevver “yiu” Thinck Sombthing Bad!!!!! It wood “be” eevin Bettor if No Boddy hadded no Branes at all!!! Branes ownly “get” yiu In trubble Anyway!!! Lookit Jo Byden,, he gets By “jist” fyne with-Out no Brane!!
We reely has got to “get Rid of” all Boocks “that” Are Nott a-prooved by the Stoodint Soviet!!!!!