12 x 12in oil on museum quality panel
The hiding of the eggs. It’s an Easter tradition. I was actually looking forward to doing it this year, what with having a youngster in the house, one Eddie Pierre….now a whole one year old.
“I tell you Phyllis you have to pull out all the stops when it comes to hiding these things….its eggsactly what I told you. He’s EATING LIKE A HORSE!!!”
“But, but… they’re chocolate—Eddie Pierre said he doesn’t like chocolate.”
“Phyllis, I think in all the eggcitement of the holiday you have forgotten something. Eddie Jr. couldn’t tell the truth if his fur depended on it. I have no idea who he has taken that after (geez, I wonder who???) but I do know that given half a chance there will not be one morsel of chocolate left for me. He didn’t get to weighing 14 pounds by eating only tuna no matter what he claims.
Far be it from me to eggsagerate…but do I need to bring up the open house “I’ll save your seat” trick he played??”
“Oh dear, oh dear!! Whatever shall we do Mr. Ed??” (it’s so ridiculous that she calls him Mr. Ed—I swear, his head gets bigger right while you’re watching!)
“I’ve been giving it some eggscruciating thought. Where is the one place you are least likely to find him?”
“I don’t know Mr. Bill, but I am sure you do. You are so clever!”
“In the bathroom, Phyllis—in the toothpaste drawer to be exact. It’s the last place he will think to snoop with those large paws of his. ….you know how he hates brushing those razor sharp teeth of his.” (which is true, like most kids, Eddie Pierre is not that big on hygiene;))
“Oh Mr. Bill! You are ever so smart and …and…of course very, VERY handsome as well.”
Now you can see what I’m working with here. One pompous cat, one smitten mouse and one errant toddler.