<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750</id><updated>2011-04-22T02:30:15.491+02:00</updated><category term='saudos'/><title type='text'>Contos dos Nenos de Catoira</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-3380749611407847719</id><published>2008-12-26T11:42:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:01:27.927+01:00</updated><title type='text'>HISTORIA DE CATOIRA</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-d7a6205e2be006d0" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" 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href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/3380749611407847719/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=3380749611407847719' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/3380749611407847719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/3380749611407847719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html' title='HISTORIA DE CATOIRA'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-8103796450480682838</id><published>2008-11-22T14:19:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:14:37.095+01:00</updated><title type='text'>EL CHUPA CABRAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HXGaXlXVFgk/SVTKa927NrI/AAAAAAAAAFM/BAzmTBYuqD0/s1600-h/chupa_cabras.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 255px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HXGaXlXVFgk/SVTKa927NrI/AAAAAAAAAFM/BAzmTBYuqD0/s320/chupa_cabras.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284070827442779826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;El  chupa  cabras es un animal  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" &gt;muy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" &gt;estraño.&lt;/span&gt; Alguna &lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" &gt;gente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" &gt;cree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" &gt;aberlo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" &gt;visto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; en &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" &gt;el monte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" &gt;pero &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; hay  quien  no &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" &gt;cree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" &gt;exista&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;  pero &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" &gt;yo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; creo que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" &gt;existe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; .  Esta historia o &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" &gt;leyenda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; que voy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; a describir tiene dos colmillos como &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" &gt;Drácula&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;  y un&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;  tamaño medio como el topo, garras afiladas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" &gt;como las &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; de un tigre. Mirar la foto para saber como es.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-8103796450480682838?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/8103796450480682838/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=8103796450480682838' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/8103796450480682838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/8103796450480682838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/11/el-chupa-cabras.html' title='EL CHUPA CABRAS'/><author><name>Gonzalo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366457566207783103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HXGaXlXVFgk/SVTKa927NrI/AAAAAAAAAFM/BAzmTBYuqD0/s72-c/chupa_cabras.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-153799476627000739</id><published>2008-11-22T13:54:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:32:09.806+01:00</updated><title type='text'>EL JABALI  HOLGAZÁN</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Érase una vez un jabali holgazán por que siempre miraba la tele mientras se rascaba el ombligo y nunca hacía ejercicio y siempre comía comida basura. Un día dijo el lobo- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mmm  &lt;/span&gt;que rico debe de ser ese jabali  jugoso, me lo comería ahora . Y el lobo planeó comérselo. Un día dijo el jabali- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;boi a salir para ir al restaurante.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pero el lobo le puso una trampa ,  puso en la salida de la casa pegamento, y cuando salió se pego los pies y el lobo selo comio y dijo- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mmm que rico&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-153799476627000739?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/153799476627000739/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=153799476627000739' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/153799476627000739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/153799476627000739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/11/el-jabali-holgazn.html' title='EL JABALI  HOLGAZÁN'/><author><name>Gonzalo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366457566207783103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-5299034585110994232</id><published>2008-11-22T13:15:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:33:50.451+01:00</updated><title type='text'>NÉSTOR</title><content type='html'>Me llamo néstor soy de catoira me gustan muchas cosas pero lo que más me gusta es HSM,JB,la pizza ...&lt;br /&gt;Tengo  10 años y ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-5299034585110994232?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/5299034585110994232/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=5299034585110994232' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/5299034585110994232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/5299034585110994232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/11/me-llamo-nstor-soy-de-catoira-me-gustan.html' title='NÉSTOR'/><author><name>nestor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14789031215155061428</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-1961654085999464928</id><published>2008-11-22T13:12:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:37:21.470+01:00</updated><title type='text'>EL VAMPIRO</title><content type='html'>Érase una vez un vampiro y su criado un ogro llamado hombre de metal. Era tan fuerte, tan fuerte que nadie le podía ganar, excepto DRÁCULA y el PRÍNCIPE CASPIAL que tenía una espada de oro. Un día se enfrentaron y ganó CASPIAL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-1961654085999464928?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/1961654085999464928/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=1961654085999464928' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/1961654085999464928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/1961654085999464928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/11/el-bapiro.html' title='EL VAMPIRO'/><author><name>Gonzalo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366457566207783103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-3994353323000045468</id><published>2008-08-03T16:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T16:42:17.725+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A CHAVE</title><content type='html'>Era pola noite, facía moito frío e tamén vento. Como todas as noites José acostárase cedo, aínda que só tiña catorce anos, xa traballaba!, traballaba nunha empresa que facía material rústico para as casa dos ricos.&lt;br /&gt;O vento ruxía fora. Pensou no traxecto á fábrica, no vento e na chuvia. Entre soños e vento, de repente un ruído, era o mesmo ruído que oía todas as noites. Era o seu pai que chegaba da mesma fábrica á que el debía ir en menos de tres horas. O ruído era o dunha chave enorme, de ferro, que a súa nai poñía sempre ao lado da porta para cando chegara o seu home. Era un ruído coñecido e querido. Era o son de que papá xa estaba na casa. Oíase o rastrexar da chave sobre a pedra e logo como se metía na pechadura.&lt;br /&gt;Esperou pero non pasou nada. Que raro! Pensou.&lt;br /&gt;-Mamá.-Gritou dende a súa habitación&lt;br /&gt;-Si, xa sei.&lt;br /&gt;Durmeuse ata que máis tarde volveu a oír o mesmo ruído familiar de todas as noite. O rastrexo da chave, o metela na pechadura, pero esta vez abriuse. Seu pai estaba na casa!&lt;br /&gt;Ao día seguinte, o seu padriño morrera!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-3994353323000045468?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/3994353323000045468/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=3994353323000045468' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/3994353323000045468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/3994353323000045468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/08/chave.html' title='A CHAVE'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-2251650776113153559</id><published>2008-08-03T16:37:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:42:35.043+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O PORTUGUÉS</title><content type='html'>Isto pasou en Tui que era un home que estaba a apañar toxo na toxeira e uns cazadores e dispararon e déronlle un tiro e morreu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A súa familia como morrera, venderon a toxeira, e cando os novos donos iban a toxeira e sempre estaban os marcos movidos e os donos pensaban que era o dono da toxeira do lado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pero non era el. Ata que viron un día ao antigo dono, pero eles non sabian que estaba morto ata que foron á casa da familia e cando lle dixeron que estaba morto marcharon para Alemania e dende entón non tivo outro dono.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-2251650776113153559?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/2251650776113153559/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=2251650776113153559' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/2251650776113153559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/2251650776113153559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/08/o-portugus.html' title='O PORTUGUÉS'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-4811161732450765514</id><published>2008-08-03T16:36:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:45:14.823+01:00</updated><title type='text'>ADELAIDA</title><content type='html'>Emilio vivía en Catoira de arriba y bajaba todos los sábados a la discoteca.Una noche se encontro con una joven que bailaba en la pista.Ninguno de los amigos de Emilio se atrevía a salir a la pista a bailar con ella. El fue el único. Después de bailar los dos se fueron a una mesa de la discoteca a tomar algo y más tarde ella, Adelaida, le pidio que le acompañara a casa él le dijo que sí. Un poco antes de llegar a su casa Adelaida le dijo a Emilio que la dejara allí. El sábado siguiente&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-4811161732450765514?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/4811161732450765514/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=4811161732450765514' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/4811161732450765514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/4811161732450765514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/08/adelaida.html' title='ADELAIDA'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-3999932261889114452</id><published>2008-07-30T14:22:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:52:56.804+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Maruxiña ura ura</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:6;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;      Maruxiña ura ura&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt; Érase   una     vez una niña  que se llamaba Maruxiña y un día su madre le mando a la carnicería a por unos filetes para la cena,  pero de camino a la carnicería se encontró con sus amigas y se pusieron a jugar. Cuando se dio cuenta  ya eran las 8 y como ella ya sabía que la carnicería ya había cerrado  cuando paso por el cementerio entró y le cortó dos filetes de la pierna a un muerto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Llego a casa, cenó y  se fue para cama. A las 2 de la mañana se despertó porque escuchó un ruido. El ruido era el muerto al que le había cortado la pierna y estaba diciéndole que le devolviera la pierna que le había robado de la sepultura. El muerto iba avanzando y cada vez le decía que estaba más cerca . El muerto cogió a la niña y nunca más se le volvió a ver&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-3999932261889114452?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/3999932261889114452/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=3999932261889114452' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/3999932261889114452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/3999932261889114452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/07/maruxia-ura-ura.html' title='Maruxiña ura ura'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-8334650224607891468</id><published>2008-07-30T14:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T14:22:06.495+02:00</updated><title type='text'>MATÍAS EL BORRACHO</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, cursive;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 48pt;font-size:7;" &gt;Matías el borracho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, cursive;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 28pt;font-size:6;" &gt;Una noche siete primos muy cansados dormían a pata abierta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, cursive;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 28pt;font-size:6;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, cursive;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 28pt;font-size:6;" &gt;en la casa de su abuela y...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, cursive;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 28pt;font-size:6;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, cursive;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 28pt;font-size:6;" &gt;era el día de la romería vikinga un borracho intentó entrar en la &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, cursive;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 28pt;font-size:6;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, cursive;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 28pt;font-size:6;" &gt;huerta . Ellos lo escucharon y fueron a mirar que pasaba &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-8334650224607891468?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/8334650224607891468/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=8334650224607891468' title='2 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/8334650224607891468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/8334650224607891468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/07/matas-el-borracho.html' title='MATÍAS EL BORRACHO'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-5805433117558102237</id><published>2008-07-30T14:10:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:54:09.856+01:00</updated><title type='text'>LOS PERROS DE FUEGO</title><content type='html'>Los perros de fuego&lt;br /&gt;Esto es una nena que le dice a su madre que&lt;br /&gt;les de a agua a los perros la madre le di se que&lt;br /&gt;no tienen perros pero la madre escucho ruidos&lt;br /&gt;en un armario y cuando va a abrirlo se quema&lt;br /&gt;la mano y des pues fue al baño y cuando sale&lt;br /&gt;vea la niña que esta echando agua al suelo&lt;br /&gt;des pues jugaron a un juego y el baso en peso&lt;br /&gt;a  bolar y des pues se estrello  contra la pare&lt;br /&gt;y unos dias  despues se fueron a otra casa&lt;br /&gt;y se encotro con una bieguita y les dijo que&lt;br /&gt;hay  vivio un honbre com dos peros y se predio&lt;br /&gt;fuego la casa y se metio en un armario y el honbre&lt;br /&gt;se metio en interne  descubrio que la bieja le predio&lt;br /&gt;fuego ala casa y dicen que despues de destruir el edificio y construir el parque toda bia se escucha&lt;br /&gt;los ladrido de los perros.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-5805433117558102237?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/5805433117558102237/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=5805433117558102237' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/5805433117558102237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/5805433117558102237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/07/los-perros-de-fuego.html' title='LOS PERROS DE FUEGO'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-7652056574104279397</id><published>2008-07-30T14:01:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T13:58:53.437+01:00</updated><title type='text'>VIVIENDO EN EL MONTE</title><content type='html'>&lt;p id="epk2" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span id="epk20"  style="font-size:6;"&gt;Viviendo en el monte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p id="epk21" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p id="epk23" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"&gt;    &lt;span id="epk24"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Érase una vez hombre que vivía en la época de Franco. El nunca se cortó a la hora de hablar mal de Franco, hasta que un día la guardia se enteró que Raimundo, que así se llamaba el hombre que hablaba mal de Franco. Lo persiguieron mucho tiempo pero no consiguieron encontrarlo porque él conocía muy bien el monte de Reboiras, en el cual éste se resguardó. Al cabo de 5 años perdió un poco el miedo y ya se atrevía a salir hasta el bar para empinar el codo. Así estuvo unas cuantas semanas, hasta que la guardia lo volvió a encontrar. La suerte fué que Raimundo corría mucho y no recibió ningún balazo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p id="epk25" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p id="epk27" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"&gt;   &lt;span id="epk28"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Al cabo de diez años unos excursionistas encontraron su cadaver en el monte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p id="epk29" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p id="epk211" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"&gt;   &lt;span id="epk212"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Desde aquella se cree que su espíritu vaga por el bosque protegiéndolo. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p id="epk213" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"&gt;                                       &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p id="epk214" style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-7652056574104279397?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/7652056574104279397/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=7652056574104279397' title='7 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/7652056574104279397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/7652056574104279397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/07/viviendo-en-el-monte.html' title='VIVIENDO EN EL MONTE'/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4434025126637348750.post-2642794603706555936</id><published>2008-07-28T01:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T01:02:50.447+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saudos'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bos Dias a todos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4434025126637348750-2642794603706555936?l=contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/feeds/2642794603706555936/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4434025126637348750&amp;postID=2642794603706555936' title='3 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/2642794603706555936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4434025126637348750/posts/default/2642794603706555936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://contosdosnenosdecatoira.blogspot.com/2008/07/bos-dias-todos.html' title=''/><author><name>contos dos nenos de Catoira</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16845801710294664369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
