Shelfies - with overgrown Kitten

One of our kittens favourite hiding places - from the over-grown pup and the little wild ones, who all love him that bit too much - is in my book shelf. 

So here it is: Shelfie with kitten. (And various feline poses.) 

*and yes, he still does look a bit aggrieved with the world, but he has a champion purr.

mangroves & fishing

Some days, you just need to grab a fishing rod and walk barefoot along the beach.
The breeze, the sand underfoot, the gentle lap of the water, and things take a different perspective. Everything's that bit easier, when you take a little peace away from time by sea.

*please note the fish. Beloved was very proud. I had visions of a fry up with butter, but we threw him back.
*um, the colour co-ordination was not on purpose. It's just my favourite colour.

Bird-Baby

Giggle-Bear with Nana and Grandpa's pigeons. And I know she's not a baby anymore, she's not even a toddler - she's sturdy on those little legs now, and determined, but as I tell Adventure Boy, they'll always be my little babies. 

Kitten-Love

Because... kitten. And he's growing up so quickly (like the rest of the family) that soon he won't be a kitten anymore but a lanky cat-ager. (Cat-teen? Kit-at? I'm not sure what the teenager word for a cat is.)
He's already worked out the rules of the house. He runs from the kids, puts up with being thouroughly licked by the Wolfen-Pup (often with a firm paw keeping him still) and in quiet times comes and sits on Beloveds' or my chest and purrs and purrs and purrs.
He has a truce with my in-laws dog, Sheba, (as seen above) and they happily study each other and sit beside each other.
But... that look in the top photo? I have a terribly feeling it is betrayal. You brought me where? Here, with the savages? I hope you feel guilty... He is loved well, but perhaps not wisely. 

evening light

Most evenings finds us over at Nana and Grandpa's, where we revel in the air-con and have water-fights with the hose. The power of the hose has gone to Giggle-Bear's head. It's got one of those caps where you pull the trigger and shoot, and Giggle Bear has spent a long time giggling like a super-villain and shooting whoever comes close. Luckily, with the heat, we dry off quickly.
The Extravaganza has told me, vey seriously, that Grandpa gets mad if you spray his pigeons. Poor pigeons. I believe they've only been doused once.
I wonder if Giggle-Bear will remember these times when she's older, remember when she had her own green and shady kingdom, where the pigeons constantly cooed and she was master of the hose and the very serous business of moving her toys to and fro.
I hope so, but I doubt it.
Childhood, it just goes so fast.