Bonjour, mes amis. I am Molly. You are meeting me because I have sent my companion away to France, with her Mother. She needed a rest, poor thing. What with the hiking, and camping, and a few desperate weeks of work, she was simply worn out. Fatigued. Which I would say in French but this foul Blogger has not the accent symbole.
En tout cas, I am here, at the home of le Fatty Kitty. Fatty Kitty is, of course, dead. Nevertheless, this is still his home, his domaine, no more so than when I repose in the garden which bears his name.
You see me on a small rock, which sometimes holds water, surrounded by the burgeoning catnip. and many squash which will never bear fruit. I fear this librarian is no gardener. However, the catnip is exceptional and that is all that really matters.
I spend my time in the usual manner: in repose upon my fur-lined bed
(I have a lovely view of the woodcutter who lives next door - so restful to watch others sweating and hauling and perhaps, swearing);
I also go for les aventures in the back yard. There are trees, birds, squirrels, and a rival cat to amuse me.
I surprise my concierge by walking along the ground one moment, and the next instant I am...
vous voyez?
Eh bien, je dois partir maintenant.
J'aime le traducteur Google.
Until next time, mes amis. Au revoir....
