It Never Rains, But...

Hi there!
This is a joint message from both Viggo and myself.

The readers-between-the-lines (you, in other words) have discovered that I have recently discovered that all was not well in marriage land. Again in other words: I have been dumped. Jilted. Betrayed. Found wanting. Found lacking. Found to be approaching sixty-thus-sexlessly-age. Take your pick. Take them all, I have.
I prefer to use: we have drifted apart so far, that land was totally out of sight.

Don't worry. I'll survive. My blog will survive. My posts will survive, and I will try not to turn maudlin on you.
But it is essential that you, my readers, will come to realize that the Renée Koopman that you know has seamlessly morphed into the Renée Grashoff she was unto 1990.
That means there is suddenly another name on top of this blog. It also means that I cannot change my email address simply because of the enormous logistics involved, but that I will have to change it in due course. I will let you know.

To the ones that have taken the trouble to send me sweet and uplifting messages: thank you. You have no idea (no idea!) how much this has meant to me.

Talk to you soon!

Renée

Viggo's Blog - The Joy Of Pooping In Someone Else's Garden.

Hi fans, Viggo here.

Alright, okay, calm down, don't worry yourselves, we're still here and still alive and kicking. 
Jeez, you'd think we were in a war zone or something, it's not THAT bad!
I've told my woman to stay strong, and for Frith's sake to jog to the supermarket and get me
 a load of those expensive nibbles before her assets are frozen. And she seems fine, honestly, 
she'll live.

Meanwhile I sat in one of my customized bags. This is one of my special ones; it only took

 me 2 seconds to get it just so.

But what I really wanted to talk to you about, is something I've discovered a while ago.

You know we have quite a large garden, right? Large enough for me to have some secret

 secluded spaces for my...well, let's call them my special needs.

I am a stickler for privacy. I do not like to be watched when I do my business. Would you? 

(No, don't answer that! It was a rhetorical question, you stupid human! As if I care.)

I also told you that we have a new Maine Coon on the block. And his humans have a poor 

excuse for a garden, almost all paving with a tiny tiny piece of earth with some pitiful plants in.

Now, I have discovered that it really pisses him off when I poop in this plot of dirt. So I do.

It takes quite a bit of planning, because fun as it may be, I still like my privacy.

This afternoon his woman shouted at me, so perhaps she's sussed me out... Still. It was worth 

it. And I don't need to be afraid that he will try to do his business in my garden, 'cause Gina

 will bark as soon as he shows his ugly hairy face.

Right. Wanted to share this with you. Tarah!