Taku got his summertime shave. He’s utterly buzz cut, except for his head, feet, and tip of his tail. After getting his trim, Taku runs around like a kid just out of a bath. I suppose because he feels good, he thinks he looks good. He prances some. His skin is bunny-ear pink. But the trouble is that Taku is just portly enough that he rumples. Parts of him truly resemble a Shar-Pei. But he doesn’t care. He’s like, “Touch me. I’m sleek. Look at me all loungy and nekkid. Watch how I can fan my toes. You know that I have a porn-star name? I do. It’s Taku. Taku Velour.”
(Originally published May 14, 2018)
This spring has been so cold that we’ve used real cats to block the door drafts.
(Originally posted April 7, 2018)
(Originally posted February 12, 2018)
The cats love me. The cats know I’d rather harm myself before hurting them. And although this is splendid, it means that when I try to scare them in attempt to stop them from, say, eating the plant, they look at me and chew. James. They love James. Yesterday, over the phone for reasons that are in fact sane, James imitated a roaring crocodile. Sitka froze, and hung onto the couch with all of his toes. Taku scrammed the cat box before he was done.
I have no mommy fu.
(Originally posted January 16, 2018)
I come back to my study, and Sitka is stepping off my computer keyboard. On the computer screen, there’s this: 4785/5=89.
It’s wrong. But it’s math.
(Originally posted December 12, 2017)