“Good morning, Squeaks,” said Momanita as she plucked off the cover of my rolly cage. “It’s a misty morning that’s freshening the air and plumping the buds. Isn’t it a wonderful spring day!” “It’s also cloudy and gray and a sleepy morning.” Momanita thought every morning was wonderful. To other hootmans this sounded like squealsContinue reading “Feast Your Eyes On These Eyes”