Tuesday, July 03, 2012

Je Réfute Henri

Hmphf, sniffs Queen Francine.  We are not amused.  Nous ne sommes pas amusés, if you want to get all French about it.

That Henri, he thinks he has the market on misery. We beg to differ.  His bete noire may be l'Imbecile Blanc, but we have to put up with le Gros Poilu, the Fat Hairy One.

And even worse, there is our evil doppelganger who appears nightly outside the invisible barrier.  The woman feeds it.  How dare she!

We are incensed.

We are much more beautiful, n'est ce pas?

And yet there are times when life is not as bad as Henri depicts.  Sometimes a patch of sunlight lights up our glorious fur and our world happily turns upside down.

This is when we, Queen Francine, become Fifi and accept petting.  Laisser le ronronnement* commence.  Purrrrrr.  Purrrrrr.  Purrrrrr.  Purrrrrr.  Purrrrrr.  Purrrrrr.  Purrrrrr.



smalltownme said...

Oh Fifi, you hijack my blog and what happens? I enter your photo in Henri's contest.

Signed, the daring woman.

Gary's third pottery blog said...


Cassi Renee said...

I just love cats --so much personality :-)

Karen (formerly kcinnova) said...

Ha! I imagine that Cleopatra (the queen in my own household) could write such a post... if she could only speak french!

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

Ze chat--zey are so French.