Because I haven’t done my part to keep teh Intertubez full of cats.
So, I introduced a friend to the existential anguish and ennui of Henri. Much giggling ensued.
Poor Henri, the world is too much with him. Continue reading
I needed to make the bed. As you can tell, this was not on someone else’s agenda. Now, to be honest, since it was -11 F out with a wind chill of “don’t ask,” and horizontal snow, Athena T. Cat had some justification for staying put on the warm faux-fur throw on my bed. In fact, she was probably smarter than the two-foots who was up and about. Continue reading
MomRed decided that the litter box was too stout. Specifically, the scent of the litter box, whenever we couldn’t open the window for a few minutes/day to air the cat’s bathroom. So she decided that a charcoal bag was called for. Now, I didn’t notice a problem, but I spend more time around that part of the house, and so my nose might be more accustomed to kitty’s whiffy biffy. That, and I stir the litter several times a day (hourly) when I’m home, so it airs better. When I’m a Day Job, that doesn’t get done as often. Continue reading
Somewhere there’s a cat on the bed.
I needed to make the bed. Athena was having nothing of it. She’d already jumped up onto the bed five times since 0130 and enough was enough.
Me: Athena, I need to make the bed.
Me: Athena, I can’t make the bed with you on it.
Athena: Since I’m here, it’s made. Zzzzzzzzz.
Athena is enjoying her hangover.
The sock is full of what is probably the last catnip of the season. It’s supposed to be 20F Monday and Tuesday nights. Our first freeze will be a very, very hard freeze.
That’s why they were called the Dark Ages.
Her Royal Lowness has decided that blocking access to both the closet and the bathroom is one of the best ways to get the staff to pay attention to her. Continue reading
One laptop, that is. Athena T. Cat does not, I repeat not, like it when I have an art book, large textbook, or computer in my lap. As you can tell by the look she’s giving me.
Puss on boot, or Athena T. Cat wondering where the laces are. She has taken to pestering my sneakers, pulling at the laces and playing with them. At 0500. Until I get up and pet her, feed her, pet her, or otherwise show interest in her affairs. Continue reading