Westmuenster Abbey

Happy Fleaster, everyone!
 
In honor of the pawliday, I recently took my family on a trip to England’s Westmuenster Abbey. Traveling “Across the Pawnd” was no problem – after all, Ratlanta’s sewers do eventually empty into the ocean. We did make a stop at the Mid-Ratlantic Ridge along the way, though: as one of the world’s major tectonic plates, it has some pretty pawsome cheese restaurants.
 
My wife, Bobette, and I enjoyed meeting the Archbishop of Canterburrow, while the pups had fun playing with the Benedictine minks. All of us liked viewing the Westmuenster Ratable, the oldest panel painting alterpiece in Bratain, because rodents of the past are well known to have left cheese crumbs on the table.
 
Fleaster service at the Westmuenster is always very pawpular, drawing locals, like the British royal family, as well as overfleas tourists, like me. There’s just something about taking in a major pawliday at a huge cafleadral that makes things seem extra grand, although I prefer to spend most pawlidays in my humble little burrow. Still, the archdiofleas made my family and me feel right at hovel in Bratain’s favorite cheesy church.
 
So happy fleaster! I hope yours is flea-free and filled with the wonder of why we really celebrate – Christ’s resurrection. And do remember, if you happen to travel Across the Pawnd on a future pawliday, there are still a few left-over cheese crumbs on the Ratable.
 
Keepin’ it squeak,
Bob

Catching Fur

 
 
My humans are fans of The Hunger Games book series. Two of the books have been made into movies with the third on the way, and the humans have been all excited because the second movie, Catching Fire, recently came out on video.
 
It’s pretty fleatrical, if you ask me! Set in a future in which most of the country starves while a select few live with pawmp and circumstance, the main character, Ratniss, has to fight for her life and that of her friend/lover, Fleata, in a terrible arena-style grudge match. Appawling indeed.
 
I had nightmares for days after watching it – not about what happened in the arena, but about the family cat, Buttercup. That creature was vicious! Sure, he had a cameo for only five seconds, but his hiss still echoes in my ears. In my dreams I saw myself scurrying around the arena, Buttercup hot on my heels. And just as he was about to sink his claws into me I shook awake, never knowing if he was successful at catching fur.
 
These pawful dreams finally stopped when I realized I already know what happens to Buttercup in the third book and movie. Is Buttercup fine? Yes. But as to whether he gets declawed, I’ll leave that for you to discover yourself.
 
Keepin’ it squeak,
Bob