It was a dark and stormy night. Decadent Housewife was resting from a long day of, of, of feeding men. When all of a sudden, she paused...shhh...yes.
Just over howling winds and scurrying mice she could hear...yes...WOLVES. And they were in her kitchen. Again. Just look at those huge paws.
Snarling, snapping. Well, not really. But that would fit about here. These wolves were quietly moving in to make their attack. (Sorry, if this looks too exorcist. C'est la vie.)
Not yet satiated, they return again and again...bypassing any plate or civilized serviette, (this is Canada, we say serviette)...circling the refrigerator.
Oh my goodness. It's another wolf and his wolfette. Ignore the shirt that says otherwise. He is not a fox. She is the fox.
Alas, they have eaten, drank and been filled.
LOOK! This one's back! This one always comes back to finish things off.
Gosh, winters are long in Canada.