Corner of Bourbon & Division

Pan-Pan has, of late, decided that he needs to live inside my ribcage. I keep trying to tell him there isn't enough room in there for both him and my internal organs, but he's hell-bent on testing the theory anyway.

I've turned up the heat a bit in the apartment in the vain hopes that it's only because he's feeling chilly that he keeps trying to burrow in under my spleen.

Ow.

Right now I've managed to persuade him to cuddle up with George on top of my feet. I now have no feeling at all in my toes, but it's better than the alternative.

The Prodigal Kitty returns! None the worse for wear, but VERY clingy.


I had three messages from moonandtree on my machine this morning. He knew I was on the lookout for George.

The first message was something like this: "Hi mousme, it's around midnight and I have George here. He's fine, and I'm going to try knocking on your door."

Since I was at work last night, the following message ran thusly: "Hi mousme, George is with me. Hopefully you'll come by before I leave for work tomorrow morning."

The last message went like this: "Hi mousme. I tried keeping George in but he has not. stopped. yowling. since he came in, and so I've kicked him out. He's in the garden."


Anyway, many thanks to moonandtree for going above and beyond the call of duty and putting up with a very loud and fussy brat of a kitty. :)

All is well, and now I am going to bed.


Cats.

George wishes it to be known that he is The Saddest Cat In The Universe™.

Just so you're aware.

Life with me is a pit of suffering, despair, and angst. He's been HOWLING all morning.

Cats.