Monday, February 25, 2013

Purr-dy Sunday and a Mean Ol' Cat

Oh what a glorious Sunday it was.  Until the cat that is!  Three days ago, our fine city had 8-20" of snow dumped on it, depending on which part of the city you live in and. . . more importantly. . . who you ask.  Yes, yes, there are some fine Kansas Citians who tend to stretch the truth a wee bit especially when we get a big snow storm.  They mean no harm - they just like tall tales!  I think we had about 8" at our house, but really who's counting?  Anyhoo, the snow plows did their jobs, the sun came out and the high today was right about 40 degrees.  After three long days of being cooped up indoors, it was the perfect day for an outing.  Or so I thought.

The husband and I hopped in the truck long about 11:30 a.m. and headed toward Weston, Missouri.  We stopped by the state park for a photo shoot.  Wanna see?  Ok, here are just a few. . .

After tromping around in the snow and nature for an hour or so, we drove into the quaint lil town of Weston.  Weston is about 30 minutes northwest of Kansas City for those who may not know.  It's "small town," but close enough to the city that this city girl never feels completely disconnected when there.  Weston's downtown area is lined with a handful of speciality shops selling everything from vintage cameras and photographs to current day cowboy stuff and everything in between.  It's mostly a tourist trap, but it's the sort of place where children can still play safely outside and dogs and cats can, and do, roam up and down Main Street as if they own the joint.  Here are a few photos to give you the feel of the place. . .

So the Quinns snooped around every store that was open, which amounted to about half.  Small town. . .old school. . . several proprietors still believe in resting on the sabbath apparently.  We snooped for about an hour or so and congratulated ourselves for not caving in and buying a bunch of crap (or treasures depending on how you look at it) on impulse.  Just as we were walking back to the truck to leave, a healthy looking gray cat with tags (as in. . . someone owns me, I have family, I am loved) walked up to my husband and asked to be petted.  Yes!  The cat asked my husband to pet him (in the way cats do. . . "meow" "meow", nudge, nudge, let me rub my body against your leg in a loving but, "hey pay attention to me right now!," sort of way).  Didn't take long for Mr. Quinn to hear the kitty and comply.  That's because Mr. Quinn is an animal lover, which means he is always in sync with nature.   Dogs, cats, horses, snakes (ick!). . . he loves them all.  As Mr. Quinn pet the cat, I walked on up ahead about two store lengths or so.  And when my husband stopped petting the cat and quickened his pace to catch up to me, do you know what that cat did?  Are you ready for this?  That cat sprinted ahead of my husband to where I was and bit my pant leg!  Can you say jealous?  The cat!  Not me!!!  The cat was mad because my husband stopped stroking it and headed in my direction.  I guess the cat saw me as competition for my husband's love and affection.  Guess what, cat?  I won!

I almost stopped to take a picture of the cat when we first walked upon him, but I didn't because I was tired from all that tromping around in the snow we did earlier in the day.  And, more importantly, because my 52 year old bladder, which now resides down around my knees somewhere, was more than ready to be home!  Where we have bathrooms.  Three to be exact.  Now I wished I had.  Taken the picture that is.  And I really wished my husband had been carrying the camera when the cat attacked me.  You know. . . for proof and all!    Well that, and a photo would have made a nice (funny) addition to the blog.

So that was my Sunday.  Went to Weston to take some pictures and maybe get an interview with a passerby.  Instead, I got some pictures, puncture wounds in my right calf and PTSD (post traumatic stress syndrome), which will likely require years of therapy!

From the porch, happy Sunday all.  Hope you enjoyed your time here and got a laugh or two.


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