Posted by on Jun 26, 2018 | 8 comments

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MUD, MUD, MUD, all mama writes about is MUD.

Okay, I’m not going to harp on this thing about mud packs and mud bathing and whatever it is that mud does for your body, but one thing is SURE: my body will never–read my muzzle–NEVER be coated with, rubbed in, or painted with MUD!

Mama is always saying, “Hey, if that guy doesn’t keep his word (or somesuch type “if” sentence), his name is FANGO!”

Or, “LOULOU, if it was you who knocked over that Ming vase, your name is FANGO!”

Of course, I never do anything like that EVER and besides, we don’t own a Ming vase, whatever that is, so I’m not worried about being called names.

Fango being the word for ‘mud’ in Italian.  I sort of like the word actually, maybe a nice little name for a grey kitty, no?  With ‘fang’ in it? Get it?

Okay, skip that one.

But I am very worried that mama is going to send me photos of THEM wallowing in mud and there is NO way I am putting those pics on MY blog.

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NO WAY.  Hey, this is a high-class joint, right?