I was going to ramblize about being tired and my sore muscles and wanting to go back to bed, but that seems too whiny. Even for me. I mean, I AM tired, and I have many sore muscles, and I do really want to go back to bed. (and I’m probably a bit whiny) But…

Collette is not a fan of the camera. Or, more likely, she is not a fan of me approaching her with unclear objectives.  Most humans might understand the intentions of a person when they reduce their distance while holding their phone before them in a two handed picture-taking manner. But Collette is a cat, and…

We are featuring a guest cat this morning, but I don’t remember their name. So for right now this little furball is Soggy Socks III. Say hello to Soggy, everyone! According to their bio, Soggy Socks III dreams of being a professional Lucadora when they grow up. She enjoys head scritches and snacks, and spends…

Shortly after taking this picture, once I sat down to begin writing, Marmalade sauntered over for some lap-time, chin scritches, and an opportunity to shed half a pound of fur onto my clothes and face before hopping off to examine the pitiable contents of the dry-food dishes. (The bowls are half full…)  Could that have…

Betcha didn’t know Figgs spoke French, did ya? Well, now you know. And knowing is half the battle. The other half of the battle is croissants and cheese. Because we’re talking about French stuff here. Why does Mr Figgs speak French? Because Figgs is short for Figaro, and Figaro was Pinocchio’s cat. And while Pinoccio…

I am sooooooo sleepy. I cannot keep my eyes open. Coffee isn’t doing the coffee thing. Pleeeeeease let me go back to bed. I can’t send Floof into work for me. My boss is allergic to cats. And Floof can’t drive. Or answer phones. And she hates 97.3% of humans. Actually, now that I’ve listed…

So, we get a visitor from time to time. His name is tiny and he lives across the street. Sometimes he stops by to visit, and it seems he most frequently visits when Marmalade is in the window. Sometimes he seems lost, like maybe he thinks this is his house. But mostly he just stares…

No, Lady Marmalade does not actually drink coffee. Caffeine is bad for cats, which is why they spend so much time napping. I was actually trying to get a picture of her in said napping state, but I am not as sneaky quiet as I think I am, and she woke up. She frequently looks…

Madame SweatPants was enjoying some neck scritches, until she wasn’t. There was probably a telepathic effort to inform me of her rapidly approaching limit, but my psychic receivers must operate on an inverse modulation. Maybe there’s a drug for that. Her paw, at one moment soft and tenderly kneading biscuits, was abruptly bristling with porcupine…

This is how I feel every morning. Do I emerge from the cozy blankets and pillows? Or do I retreat deeper into them? Eventually a hungry cat makes that decision for me. I don’t think I could stay in bed forever anyway. There isn’t any coffee in bed. Or snacks. And even though all the…