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There is a pair of indigo buntings outside my window beneath the bird feeder. They are darling.
They are driving Casper absolutely bonkers. He is crouched on the couch above them staring through the glass, his tail lashing frantically while he meows his little heart out. And these are clearly clever buntings, because they know he can't get to them, and are blithely ignoring them and continuing with their seed-munching.
This is particularly adorable because Casper's squeaker is broken, so his meows come out a lot like air escaping from a particularly quiet tire. He sort of sounds like this: "!!! !!! !!! !!! !!!"
I have no way of knowing, of course, what exclamation points really sound like. But I'm pretty sure they sound like Casper. He defines exclamation points. They are pretty much his day all day, every day, from six a.m. to bedtime.
They are driving Casper absolutely bonkers. He is crouched on the couch above them staring through the glass, his tail lashing frantically while he meows his little heart out. And these are clearly clever buntings, because they know he can't get to them, and are blithely ignoring them and continuing with their seed-munching.
This is particularly adorable because Casper's squeaker is broken, so his meows come out a lot like air escaping from a particularly quiet tire. He sort of sounds like this: "!!! !!! !!! !!! !!!"
I have no way of knowing, of course, what exclamation points really sound like. But I'm pretty sure they sound like Casper. He defines exclamation points. They are pretty much his day all day, every day, from six a.m. to bedtime.
