Isn’t that the fate that awaits a traitor?
This morning, I had to wear a different hat on our morning walk because my usual ones were nowhere to be found, including the “Australian Flag” baseball cap I usually wear in the AM.
This morning, I discovered why it wasn’t anywhere I looked.
I found most of it, at least. On Australia Day, no less.
The industrial-strength disassembly machine previously known as Heather had a decidedly guilty look on her face, too.
Now I’m no foam-at-the-mouth patriot like most US citizens pretend to be, but a hat is a hat. it is NOT a chew-toy. Nor are Gemma’s UD articles. Or my garden rakes. Or my chairs!
Yikes, someone has to put Heather on a food diet! Her appetite (for destruction!) seems insatiable – although she did learn to stop making (ahem) biological messes nine months younger than her half-sister, and several months younger than her mum.
I guess it’s time to look for another hat!
[Question: which has caused more destruction, mayhem and death: religion, or nationalism?]
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