Cleo's sure-fire hangover cure

No, it wasn't me.  Of course I am not drinking (although beer, I miss you SO much), and the Moose has had only the occasional beer or cider, because he is a moderate Moose and is probably not allowed to have things that I can't have unless I am feeling overly generous.

This happened just after New Years, and to our neighbour G.

Our neighbour is a lovely woman who has a westie terrier named Molly (Cleo's best friend).  Molly comes to visit Cleo, and Cleo goes to visit Molly.  And honestly, Cleo thinks she owns the world, including Molly's house.  Often she just wanders over through an open door, or sits and paws at the door until G opens it. 

So, after imbibing a bit too much over New Years, poor neighbour G was suffering from the after effects, and was miserable, sitting on the loo with bucket on lap, not sure which end was going to go.  Molly, being a sympathetic dog (and not a sadistic cat...ahem...Cleo) was sitting by her feet, looking up at her with those gorgeous dark eyes to give what comfort she could.  At which time Cleo (no doubt thinking "harden up!") launched herself through the window like some kind of ninja, landed on G's back and gave her one hell of a fright, which in turn freaked Cleo, who leaped back out the window.  Lets just say poor G was in the right place to be startled that much in the condition that she was in. 

I don't know how she manages it, but a surprisingly large number of photos of Cleo have her making some goofy looking face or another.  Or maybe I just always catch her before a yawn.  Being naughty is tiring, after all.