Almost famous

Finally, the dynamic duo of Jackson and Audrey have made it to the pet sitters' website. They're about midway down the page, and they are pretty darn excited about it. In fact, they're sitting here giving me the usual vacant looks just to prove it.

I'm honestly a bit worried they like the pet sitters more than they like me.

Kitters and Chubbers

Paul can't remember my cats' names most of the time so he refers to them collectively as "kitters" and individually as "chubbers" (Audrey) and "the male" (Jackson). They love him anyway, but mostly because he is unpracticed in the art of living with cats. He's such an easy target--for everything from tripping and covering in fur, to full-scale restroom-use-interruption tactics.

This past weekend, the kitters decided to escalate. After a lengthy beer pong tournament on Sunday night, Paul passed out on my couch. The next morning I noticed his arm was covered in bright red scratches. We're talking a 4 inch by 1.5 inch area of skin full of claw marks. He has absolutely no recollection of tangling with the cats, but I thought I saw a proud glint in Audrey's eye.

She got her comeuppance, though. While trying a clever new launch off the speaker, Audrey miscalculated the landing and ended up wedged between the TV stand and the wall--feet dangling just out of reach of the floor. I just about died laughing, and received a very miffed look. The extraction process was complicated, so I took a moment to capture it midway:

(The intended landing site was the patch of wood to her right. By this point she had managed to back her ass onto the speaker, but hadn't found traction for any paws. I eventually had to haul her out upside down by the front legs.)

You can just see part of Jackson--who was sitting unhelpfully on the speaker giving her a look like, "oh, wow...geez...that's too bad..."

Week in pictures

On Monday, my colon had a photo shoot.








Over the next 2 days, I spent approximately 30 hours at work--mostly in the middle of the night and mostly sitting in this room.





Today the governor signed one of my bills, while vowing to veto the other.



Just now, Jackson puked up a stomach-full of kibble and then stood there looking rather proud of himself. I'll leave that one to your imagination.

Spring is in the air...

...and kitty love is in full bloom. Jackson knows 'tis the season to find a mate. This year he is focusing his attention on the fake plant in my upstairs bathroom. Not the fake plant by the TV, and certainly not the fake plant in the downstairs bathroom. Oh, no, this one special little yellow-and-green baby has got his number.

Unfortunately, yellow fake plant does not return Jackson's affection. You can sense his growing frustration as the thrice-daily (or more) lovefests with the plant become more frenzied. He nuzzles the plant with his furry cheek, and showers her with sandpaper kisses, but still she does not break her stony (or, rather, cotton/polyester) silence!

(Seriously, he is not eating the fake plant, or even playing with it in any normal cat way. He truly seems to be making sweet love to this object.)