Don't Be Fooled

I can hear everything you're saying, and I'll get you.

(Later.)

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Don't Mess With Texas

"Don't go near the bird feeder," I said. Don't go near the bird feeder. So what does he do? He goes right up to the bird feeder. And then what does he do? He takes out the bucket and starts spinning around, spinning, spinning, spinning. He falls down laughing and they're upon him: hundreds of them, all with paintbrushes.

"Moron," I said, and went to drink from the faucet.

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Keetty Foot and I Wanna Touch It

Don't you? They're sweet leetle feets.




It's the elusive Cave Fathom. Shhhh, they're easily spooked and heavily clawed. And irresistibly, adorably fuzzy.

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Streams! And Woods!

Thees ees out back my weendow now. Keetiees luvvs it. We seengs the songs of Luvvs and Trees and Weendows. Then the monkees dance! THEYS DANCE!

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Salem Throws Down With the Supremely Enlightened

I bow to the divine on you.

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One More Thing Atop

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Return of the Native

Here I am, back where I was once before. Last night while driving home from Target, I looked around and, for the very first time in many, many years, felt like I actually belonged to my surroundings. It was a rather jubilant moment. Kitties did fantastic on the 1,200-mile trip; I am so proud of them. They're adjusting well, as far as I can tell.

In other news, my cousin's cat is very, very sick, so please think a sweet kitty thought or say a prayer for Bandit.
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I learned recently that you relinquish all ownership of your photos when you send them to a certain very funny Web site, and I'm just too territorial to do that. So, in the spirit of that wonderful site, here follows:
Things Atop Mes Chats

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Ghost Visitor: Ten Seconds in the Dark

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