Normally I do not concern myself with WHERE the money comes from, only that we have enough for my chow, kitty treats, and whatever it is that mama eats. But today we had to stop at this oddly-air-conditioned small room called an ATM:
The machine desperately wanted to help me, trying to talk to me in it’s strange, beep-like language. I looked to mama for advice or translation, she fed it a small piece of plastic, and it shut up. Cool!
Out came cash for her, and I found a nifty stick – I like this banking thing. Except for the incessant beeping. But the money part and the stick part are ok with me.
Especially the stick part. Haven’t found any really juicy sticks for awhile, so I suppose I am a little out of practice on my stickwork.
But I can make up for that rather quickly, mama, if you just bring that stick down a tiny bit…
Just a little more…
Oh it’s tasty alright, with all of the goodness that our neighborhood provides.
You want a piece?
What if I turn it this way?
I mean, if you can grab it then we can share. Not that I will make it easy for you to grab it, being that we are all so out of shape and all, but hey, I’m willing to give it a whirl…
Okie-dokie, I’ll hold it for ya. No problemo. I still have some pooping to do…