Mr Ging, -Lew or Lewis broke a very old pot of my grandmother last night. I thought you’d like to hear how it happened. Don’t think I haven’t got a life - it’s just that the animals rule and thee is ALWAYS some sort of drama-drama.
It was a lovely round green & red painted art piece (in my opinion), with three curly pretty little feet and it lived on the coffee table in the sitting room. In it was oak leafs, acorns and a nearly ripe pomegranate from a recent visit to a wine farm. Hearing the earth-shattering sound of something hitting the floor my sister and I investigated.
Well, the only thing near, dear and moving was Mr. Lewis who tiptoed towards me on the kitchen counter (open plan). He must have leaped from the coffee table to the counter, regardless of the distance... Like a kid caught in the moment, he looked so innocent but also completely over friendly that I just knew who the culprit was. Especially when he stared very hard at the shattered pieces behind the table as if trying to work out just how that had happened.
Dear Mr. Lewis slept next to me all night, curled in a tight little ball and only jumped out of his skin (again) when Bella-dog mercilessly dived onto me this morning. With licks and knibbles.
Time to go.