I’m Too Sexy for this Blog

Steve struts his stuff for you ladies:

Specimen.








Catitude

He’s a little pissed but coming around:

Lily has no idea what is going on and is just living her best life.

*** Update ***

Steve had a special dinner, has recovered from the trauma of the experience, and is now loving on me pretty hard:

He’s perched on the arm of my chair, where he spends most every night, and we are getting along like peas and carrots.








RAWR

He’s back under the deck where he likes to spend his afternoons. We’ll see how pissed he is later.








Promise That You Will Sing About Me

As I am not a religious man, I would like all of you to keep me and my pet groomer in your thoughts because I dropped Steve off for his annual lion cut and he was fucking furious- like the angriest I have ever seen him. It started at five am when I heard him meowing for food, and I ignored him, so he did what he always does, which is to promptly go to the litter box and aggressively kick litter all over the god damned place. I yelled at him “You motherfucker” and then got up to go downstairs to feed him, and halfway down I remembered that I couldn’t feed him this morning because he is going to the groomers and when I feed him he shits all over them. Well, he always shits all over them because when they shave around his private parts his bowels let loose, but if I don’t feed him, there is less of it.

At any rate, I continued downstairs to feed him, he ran into the little half bath where I keep his food bowl (it’s there so I can shut the door and keep Rosie and Thurston from stealing his food), let him run in, and then just shut the door behind him without feeding him, thinking I could then just extract him and put him in his crate when it is time to go.

Needless to say, this served to do nothing but infuriate him even more, because not only was he hungry, but the fat man had tricked him. When it was time to crate him, I slowly opened the door and he tried to burst out the door like an uncovered linebacker, but I managed to grab him by his scruff and corral his fat ass into the container. He then literally *HOWLED* with rage the entire fifteen minute drive, and by the time we got their was a frothing, hissing, spitting ball of claws and fur.

I can’t describe the look in the groomers eyes adequately, but equal parts fear, bewilderment, and horror sums it up. I just said “I didn’t feed him this morning so he won’t shit on you,” and the guy deadpanned “Yeah thanks for that.”

I’m hoping that he is going to feel so much better after the shave that I make it through the night.








Cat Cake Open Thread

It was my birthday last week, and the people at work got me a cake:

Seeing this cake cleared up a strange moment from the week before. I’d walked into the conference room, and there was a picture of Samwise up on the big screen. My team lead forgot he was projecting from his laptop and quickly switched to a different window.

“Was that a picture of my cat?” I asked.

“…no,” he said.

“Why do you have a picture of my cat? Not that I’m complaining.”

“I… don’t?”

Then the meeting started.

Politics-allowed open thread! Bonus Samwise pic below the fold.

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