Add a Caption: Emily Standing Tall

"I now present to you...the most royal...the infinitely auspicious...the indubitably unparalleled, Her Highness Princess Pink Nose."

"Oh Great Light, would that I were worthy to glimpse your luminosity."

...I am noticing that my captions are becoming increasingly overtaken with 19th century themes and language.  Please help.  Captions from any century accepted.

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There are so many ways to caption a photo like this. 

[on the part of Vespers, the gray innocent-looking one]

"Please.  Please help my wife.  She's all I've got."

"What kitty?  I don't see a kitty.  Oh this one lying here?  No, I don't know what happened to her.  I just got here."

"Uh, Jill, don't make any noise, but I think I see a figure at the window.  Someone is definitely breaking in."

[on the part of Emily, the seemingly lifeless one]

"Yup, looks like all that was wrong with this scratching post was a worn-out washer.  Let me just tighten 'er up, and you're good to go."

"Harv, go back to sleep.  You're imagining things."

"This is just about the finest scratching post carpet-cover I've ever seen.  Just feel that; you can tell it's the quality stuff.  Mind if I take it for a test drive?"

Victorian Emily

Emily is the quintessentially Victorian cat. Many of you know of her dainty, feminine nature, and the difficulty she has expressing unpleasant emotions. Yes, like the Victorian maidens of yore, Emily is characterized by delicacy and restraint, but also by astonishing resourcefulness and courage in times of great trial. Why, just last night, as celebratory Independence Day fireworks were being set off in our neighborhood, our household Cat Clan was faced with quite a dilemma of survival instinct. As the gun shot-like noises began, all three cats sat straight up, eyes wide, alert and ready for action. For several seconds they exchanged telegraphic glances with each other that seemed to say, “Are you going to run under the bed? Not yet? OK.  Yes, I’m thinking about it. How about now?”

In the midst of this strategic and cat-like response to danger, I was sure that Emily would be one of the first to make a dash for refuge. Just as I thought her nerves would not last another moment, she turned, and with utmost grace alighted upon the tallest shelf in the room. She did not hide. She did not cower. In that critical moment, in that crucible of self-preservation, Emily mounted atop our living room’s equivalent to the highest mountain peak. She assigned herself the brave and self-sacrificing role of Lookout; the one to sound the alarm should the frightening popping noises reveal themselves to be at hand. Thank you, Emily. Beneath your little lace collar and tiny crocheted apron beats the heart of a lion.

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This has been a busy weekend, and launching into the week I feel a little "hemmed in" by tiredness and the desire to be relaxing instead of working.  But I'll dive right in because there's always next weekend, and hey, that's how I roll.