Cute Overload :D
Hey boss, I ain’t workin’ for free here. I dug your hole, but if you want me to – you know – “bury the bone” too, then that’s gonna cost you extra.
Oh, you’ll bury the bone. You’ll do it quickly. And you’ll do it quietly. And fortunately for you, I’m going to try and forget your very unfortunate attitude.
Has anyone seen Sir Purrsalot, Gwyneth D. and Ariel C.?
Oh sure, every time we show you a baby bunny, or a cute kitteh, you people are all like “Squeee! Ah wawna pop heem in mah mouf!“ Well, bon appétit, kiddies! (On the plus side, you won’t need a toothpick after dinner.)
What wine goes with hedgehog, Brittany H.?
I’m not molting right now, so I couldn’t knit the look I intended. But I think this works as a cowl neck, no?
No, SilverHonu.
Smithers, it seems that while sunning myself on this giant orange rind, my limbs dehydrated again.
Get me my B12 shot before these ninnies mistake me for an urchin and throw me out to sea.
♪ He may be called Toothpick, but he’ll always be Monty, to me ♪ (with apologies to Billy Joel), Jean T.
Let me guess. You’re making a Bundt cake.
Harebrained submission, Emily B.
Welcome to the RPG (Rhino Proving Grounds) here at Busch Gardens. Each morning, new recruits report to their MOM (Maneuverable Obstacle Mentor) for a run on the training track, evading GNU (Ground Nuisance Units) before settling down for a well-earned NAP (Nighttime Asleep Procedure). Sure it’s tough, but it’s how we make sure your next Rhino is rugged, maneuverable, and built to last.
In Tampa, your local Rhino dealer is Nick G.
Jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs!
When pigs fly!
Holy cow!
Jiminy Cricket!
Leapin’ lizards!
According to Lana D., the only thing harmed in the taking of this photograph was possibly an ear lobe.
King of Prussia, PA – Bengal kitten, Champion Tippy-Toes McWhispersons (street name: Chuck), got the surprise of his life when he awoke to find himself stranded on a crochet throw.
Never setting foot on anything less than Frette, Chuck was obviously dubious of shabby chic. Frozen in place, Chuck uncomfortably sat in fear that these weird indentations would throw him off-balance, should he dare stick a paw out.
Surrounded by this sea of suspicious fibers, Chuck took matters into his own paws. He stared at it and willed it to transform into his beloved soft, velvet smoking jacket.
That’s one brave kitten, Katia.
Excuse, me? I said I wanted a non-fat with extra-foam. And you gave me a full-fat with extra-fluff.
Not to mention that this biscotti appears to be a carrot, Andrea B.
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