I love owls. I think they are just the coolest animals. For Christmas this year, my mother bought me a stuffed owl from Anthropologie. She said she had to purchase him because he was so cute and whimsical. She also shared that when she was a young lass, a Wiley High School Red Streak if you will, she too had a stuffed owl. She named that owl K. Who Witty. A clever name, I think. I decided to name my new owl K. Who Witty as well. I will refer to him as K. Who for short.
K. Who was very well behaved in the car on the way to T's house. He wore his seatbelt and didn't make a peep.
When we arrived at the house, I decided to snap a picture of my new owl ring, a gift from my BFF Court. It is beautiful and sparkly and fun. K. Who got very jealous. He starting flapping his wings, hooting, and then he flew up among Sweet T's bourbon collection. He was completely out of reach, and I began to worry.
He stared down with a furrowed brow, then took off for the living room.
K. Witty is very clever, and tried to blend in with T's artwork above the fireplace. This almost worked, but I too am clever. He then flew back to the kitchen. Sweet T was amazed by this encounter.
I finally caught K. Who in the kitchen, but had left my owl handling glove in the car. I had to improvise and use an oven mitt. It worked like a charm as I cooed and calmed him down.
He finally settled in to relax with his co-master on the couch. Crisis averted.
If you didn't think I was weird before, you know the full extent of my quirkiness now. I have been giggling this entire time, as K. Who sits on my lap. We are both so clever, you know.
1 comment:
I think a little pee just came out while I read this blog post. You make me laugh... and pee.
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