Aunt Kay is on the left, holding her beloved grandson, Charlie. Doodle is on the right, coached by her aunt, Whipcreamy. (Please don't ask me to explain Aunt Kay's shiny disco purple windbreaker. I can't. But she's wicked old, so let's try and cut her some slack. On that, and the hairdo.)
My mother was referee.
The match was brief.
The Easter Bunny didn't dare make a visit this morning, for fear Doodle would rip it's ass off, but it was a gorgeous day in NYC, and I got up in time to go to church. Well, not a church in the traditional sense, but a place where I get to watch the Red Sox win over a couple two three five mimosas. So, Jesus? No offense or anything, it's just more my bag. Doodle's crying at the back door right now, wanting to go down 8 flights and out the laundry room window to bring back a traditional Easter alley mouse, but it's not happening. We're going to drink more mimosas and watch The Sopranos and Big Love on HBO. And we're gonna love it! Right, Doodle? Happy Easter, people!