We enjoyed a little bike ride on Saturday morning, trying to beat the heat before the heat beat us. We stopped about 10 miles in to stretch the legs and let the sweat drip, drip, drip onto the cement under a church awning. A man walked by with his dog on a leash. He told the dog, “Do not bark. Do not bark.” And the dog did as he was instructed. He did as he was instructed for as long as he could, and finally he let loose with a deep woof-woof-woof that intimidated me into action. I told the dog I had learned my lesson, and would be on my way. He had saved the day, protected his neighborhood from the outsiders in funny clothes.
The Yankee had already set out to continue her ride, but somehow the dog positioned himself in my route of travel. So I had to wait until the nice gentleman was able to reel him in. He was a very good boy, that dog, and made me leave as soon as possible. I am sure he told everyone about it the rest of the day, for treats and pets and to reassure his people that he was on the job. The sweaty guy dressed funny won’t be back anytime soon. Woof.
Anyway, since she got off ahead of me I had to catch up, which changed the video I was going to make for that ride. But this one is still fun.
I hit 43.7 miles per hour somewhere in here. That’s 70 kilometers, which sounds more impressive — and we’re presently watching the Tour, where everything is in kilometers anyway. So it was a 56 kilometer ride, and I topped out at 70 km. Not bad for a Saturday morning.
Time for the weekly kitty check in. The cats are, happily, doing just fine. And they are, of course, pleased to provide the site’s most popular feature.
Here’s Phoebe hanging out on top of the cat tree.
And here she is, yesterday, sitting in the duffel where we store the massage boots. A little compression therapy for me, a little bag time for her.
Such a character.
And here’s the occasional proof that they do, sometimes get along.
Poseidon is sometimes pretty aggressive and she doesn’t tolerate it very well and it carries over into many of their interactions. This morning she walked up to him and hissed at him for just sitting there. Usually it is the other way around. But sibling rivalries
Poseidon, meantime, works extra hard to be cute and charming, when he’s not being a pill.
He’s just an adventurer at heart. Here he is in the laundry room.
I measured all of this, after I climbed up there and dragged him out. That’s a four-and-a-half foot jump from the top of the washing machine to the top of the cabinet. And the space between that molding and the ceiling is about four inches.
I thought that was pretty agile, even for a cat. Showed that picture to The Yankee and she was not surprised. I complained about having to pull him down from there.
Oh, she said, I just leave him.
So it isn’t the first time he’s made that leap.
