Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Okay. That's Irish Enough. You Can Stop Now.

Today was my 60th birthday.

When I arrived home after my night class, Mrs. Fort had a nice surprise giftie waiting for me (an old-time baseball themed wall clock for the den), and the usual daily update on how things went in Ft. Harrington while I was away.

I fired up the computer to check in on my e-mail and my favorite blogs, poured myself a birthday mug of Guinness Extra Stout, and found myself face-to-face with Finn, who apparently had a pretty good day, too.

He first wanted to see if he could help me with the keyboard...

... then, noticing that I wasn't actually typing anything, turned his attention to the mug...

... and its contents ...


He's taking this "Finn McCool" thing way too seriously. Maybe we should have named him "Fluffy" or something.

Postscript: Ronniecat will recognize the webpage on the monitor! It's I Am Mojo! -- her cat Mojo's blog -- which I was actually reading for myself, not trying to show it to Finn. Also, the discerning viewer will notice (by clicking on the images above to see larger versions) the walrus talisman on the shelf behind Finn's shoulder. I'm looking for a tiny blue bucket to put next to it.


ronnie said...

Oh, my God, Sherwood, you're killin' me! A blue bukket for your lolrus? Too much!!!

How honoured Mojo is that you were reading his page when Finn approached! (He told me so.)

And Finn drank your Guiness, eh? He is a discerning kitty indeed.

Last, but definitely not least, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Nostalgic for the Pleistocene said...

It was quite proper that he drink a toast to you this day- and a Happy Birthday to you!

Dann said...

Happy B-Day, Sherwood. And here's to hoping that you have lots more in front of you.

Now quit wasting that Guiness on some fuzzball!!


Mike said...

I think you should continue to leave an open beer by your computer and chart what is on your monitor each time Finn is moved to drink.

My dogs have been known to glance up at the TV during Westminister or chase sequences on Wild Discovery, but it's never motivated them to break out the hooch.

I see a whole marketing thing here: Little tiny cans of beer where the pop-top actually removes the entire lid. And the inevitable search for flavors: "I bought my cat a case of Miller Lite Tuna and he won't touch it."

Sherwood Harrington said...

While catblogs may drive Finn to drink, Mike, Emma (our older little spaniel) only drinks at parties outdoors. Whenever we have people over for a barbeque on the deck, we have to warn those with a glass of beer not to put it down on a low table, else they'll eventually find Emma's face in it. Maybe we should have named her "Sheraton St.Louis."