That moment when you get up to clean your brushes, and return to discover that SOMEONE has walked across your painting:
"Not ME, lady! My paws are CLEAN!":
The ice is starting to leave the creeks:
and when the sky is blue it seems warmer out, somehow:
"I may not have many TEETH left, SodaPUNK, but I can still kick your butt!":
Speaking of Soda, he makes an excellent bookrest:
And Tinks has utilized the winter months to perfect his side-eye.
"Pardon me, would you have any Gray Poupon?"