Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Almost-Wordless Wednesday: Desperate

All right. I admit it. I miss her! 
Please come home, Human. 
I'll be good.
Sort of.
Could someone please hold my little paw for a while?

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Tuesday Tunnel Travel

I know where I'm starting from . . .
. . . but where have I ended up?

Monday, March 5, 2012

ManCat Monday: My Comfy Chair

Oh, the bliss of a soft beige blanket in the sun!
Breakfast was delicious, too.
Who needs the Human anyway? Certainly not me.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Sunday Sun Baff

After a vigorous session pursuing my new hobby, there's nothing like a leisurely baff in the sunshine to finish off my exercise before consuming a tasty brunch. The Human's off taking care of business all day today, so I am preparing for a relaxing afternoon and evening of mayhem and napping. Please feel free to join in! Look for the ninth stop on the Tunnel Express.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

T-minus 24 Hours and Counting

So tomorrow begins the Big Akkredita Ackreddi Accreditaysh Visit to The Human's school by the Important Fancy People who come to see if they're doin' it right.
We will try to keep posting but our visiting might be severely curtailed till after they are gone (next Furzday). The Human says she will be mighty glad to see the back side of them by then! 
Having served on these teams herself, she knows it's no picnic for them either, but right now she's feeling too sorry for herself to care much about their troubles one way or the other, ha ha meow! 
I just don't think it's right that all this Human travail has such a negative impact on my life!

Friday, March 2, 2012

Anatomically Correct

Honestly, is there NO privacy left at all? Here I was, sleeping peaceably in my Hammick, when--well, you all know:                     
Clickety! Clickety! Clickety! 
Of course, she aimed the camera straight down, and thus you see the above result: Up close and personal with Spitty's Royal Ear-Innards.
Sigh.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

My New Hobby

If she's going to top off the pot with fresh new dirt, she can hardly be surprised when I have my way with it. 
I mean, shouldn't she just be grateful I don't poop in it?

(P.S. Is this what they mean by "shabby chic," do you think?)