The female slave (yes, I'll admit I call her mummy - it seems to keep her amused) is constantly asking me where schmoo has gone. She seems to be referring to a small leather mouse that I pretend to play with. Again, it seems to keep her (and the male slave, aka daddy) amused.
Meanwhile, I'm still sitting here on the window sill, waiting for the new slaves I ordered to arrived. I get so excited each time the current ones go out, hoping next time someone comes back it will be my new slaves. It never is.
So, new year schmoo year I say - when are the new humans arriving?
No comments:
Post a Comment