I'm the cat you keep hearing about.
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Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
My ear’s a little blurry in this shot, but I told Alex it’s missing because I traveled through time a few hours into the future to get my dinner earlier, and that’s kicked off a “butterfly effect.”
If I look a bit forlorn in this pic, it’s because I’m dying to meet Paul and Claudia, awesome readers from Hawaii, but they might not be in town for a while.
I took a straw poll, and it seems like the overwhelming majority of us want Turkey Feast in Gravy for dinner tonight.
The second most popular dinner idea was breast milk.
Dear God,
Whatever this guy did to deserve this torture, please give me a heads up so I can steer clear of that particular brand of mischief.
Sincerely, Rev. Furio Bain
Got a lot on my mind these days:
- Are we headed toward deflation or inflation?
- At what age can we expect individual responsibility from America’s youth?
- How can I break into the drawer where Alex hides my treats?
My catnip-infused Scratch’n Massage Bed is a great place to get high AND a great place to come down for a soft landing.
It’s like starting the day with a bloody mary, except I roll around 30 times after drinking then sleep 5 hours.
Don’t judge.
What do you get the tabby that has everything? Cardboard chaise lounge. I’m such a pimp.
It’s my 32nd birthday today. I was born 10/15/2006.
It amazes me that some of the kittens I see out on the Internet are so young, they never knew a world without iPhones, and they never caught any of Conan’s stint on the Tonight Show. When did I get so old?
As you can see, the older I get, the easier my roommates make “chasing” string.
This is my interpretation of “tummy time.” Don’t act like you’re not impressed by my neck control.
The modeling gig I did a while back has now landed me on Rachael Ray’s blog.
I’m blowing up right now. I’m like the feline Justin Bieber.
In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have signed up for Palo Alto neighborhood crime watch, because I’m ill-equipped to take down a perp if I spot nefarious activity, but it seemed like a great way to glorify my napping by the window.
I’ve noticed lately that I have less energy than 2 out of my 3 roommates (the baby runs circles around me).
Unsure as to why, I did a little digging.
It turns out that I passed them in age this summer. There’s a bunch of different ways to convert my age to theirs, but this was my best effort.
I guess I’ll just have to redouble my efforts in chasing those whippersnappers around.
The problem with typing with paws is that you need to get help from a roommate every time you want to use a keyboard shortcut.
For your information, this has nothing to do with jealousy.
It just so happens that Oliver’s bath basin is also a great place for a tabby to catch some Z’s.
Of course it’s the moment when I’m under attack by ruthless mini-people that I forget my safe-word.
Help… HELP!!!
Fight the good fight, kid. I don’t let them put clothes on me either.
