It is amazing how smart Ms Kitty isto know when to keep the paws soft and when to show your stuff. Sending you hugs, Mariette. What a sweet sweet girl you are, Katie san! Your gentle bunny kicking must have made your mom smile :- I can easily see you truly trust and love each other! Love the close-up of your furry pawsie What a lovely moment you had with your Mom there in the hallway I think you and your Mom have a special "thing" between you - like me and my Mom have.
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Atomic Betty stood in front of her captain's chair, wiping a slimy, milky substance off of her face and chest with a large towel. Sparky did likewise while X-5 simply squeegied the goo off of his body into a bucket. Betty paused to look at the stuff and then shuddered audibly just before the viewscreen turned on. Admiral DeGill appeared sitting at his desk with a large ice cream sundae: he took a spoonful of gooey white marshmallow and leisurely dribbled it into his wide-open mouth before realizing that the call had gone through.
Warnings: talk of teen pregnancy, uncertainty, talk of another baby, crying, doubt, language, implied sex jokes yet again. Read part one here! Ask to be added to my permanent taglist here! I smiled, listening for the front door to click shut and Tom to growl, as he scooped Carson up from the floor.
To New York, where there is more news of Choupette, the cat companion of self-satirising designer Karl Lagerfeld. Choupette, you may know, is the feline whom Karl commandeered from a friend, having fallen in love with her after two weeks' cat-sitting. She has two dedicated personal maids one for day, one for night , her own iPad, and this week was flown by private jet to New York, along with one of her aforementioned staff. Karl was in town to attend the Museum of Modern Art's tribute to Tilda Swinton , but he announced to the attendant media that his cat would not be joining him at the function, preferring to remain at the pair's hotel. Lost in Showbiz imagines that just as Marie Antoinette had her rustic retreat in the grounds of Versailles , so Choupette has occasional yearnings for what she imagines to be the picturesque simplicity of alley-cat life. Perhaps to this end she has ordered the construction of a mock backstreet in one of the remote corners of Lagerfeld's apartment — or, indeed, in a suite of a New York hotel — to which she can repair at moments of stress, and play at scavenging bits of caviar that her second maid has half hidden among the dustbins, or fighting off the attentions of rough toms. But do let us hope the comparisons with previous royalty of old France end there. After all, the country has a history of tiring of the more decadent posturings of its preposterously privileged, and the fear must be that such revolutionary spirit has rubbed off on its felines. The solution is clear: a feline Scarlet Pimpernel must be sourced from our own shores without delay, to remain on standby should Choupette ever find herself in proletarian peril.