Mr Padge, sitting in a corner of the loungeroom, sadly looking out at my tasteful but highly effective shadecloth awning, wishing he could be outside.
On the left, outside sitting on my swaddled compositor's stone, you can glimpse our newest friend, the Arse-Quacking Duck, whom I bought at the Tallong Apple Festival. She's a plastic alarm duck with a motion sensor, and the noise she makes comes out of a speaker under her tail. You should see the cats freaking out as they try to nonchalantly stroll past her and she starts up the arse-quacking. It's hilarious. She's outside and switched off at the moment, because she drives everyone else crazy. Sigh.
2 comments:
Poor Padge. My boys do the same, with Kovu trying to scuttle out the door as soon as it's opened until he's deflected with a squirt from the spray bottle, but Mort is scared of the outdoors. I love your arse quacking duck.
The ex gave me a screeching cat one Mother's Day as if I didn't have enough with four real ones.
It was one of those things that went 'under the hammer' when he left.
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