Bernard wasn’t the sharpest pin in the cushion, though his competition, Felix the astounding black cat, was fierce and put everyone else in the shade (there’s very little shade on Mars, just by the way), including the bicycle fellow, who wore his own cappy little shade.
Monkey business – who knew they could concentrate for so long, so simianly long. I, for one, have always said that there but for the grace of an ancestral divergence, go those pesky humans. Actually, I’ve never said that, but it’s probably true in one dimension or another. Calico Pawn to Feline’s Bishop 4, check.
On any day ending in ‘y’ – and there are a few, seven, perhaps – I try to add a few words, syllables, phrases, paragraphs, to my meowmoir. It’s a humble little thing, but it grows by degrees, and claw marks. Routine is the answer; work, the solution. Begin yours today, my dears.
Here on Mars there isn’t a lot of call for gears – the dust tends to gum them up, but gear sculptures, now there’s a lovely thing. Also, we like our sundowners, although we tend to have them indoors away from the dust and redness, and things that make us testy, like the temperature (too hot, and too cold, really, for a koala bear, let alone a feline bear). Other than that, cheers, friends, and bottoms up, for Cissy Fwoppingham-Smythe is already breathless for her next flagon.