The prodigal kitty returns.

Or, more accurately, is forced to return.

A couple months ago my cat Stormy (of eleven years) disappeared. We assumed that he went off alone to die. Everyone dies alone. We mourned his loss, and, with great difficulty, moved on. We still had another cat to live for. Moose needed us.

Anyway. Recently my mother has been claiming to have seen Stormy wandering about. Naturally I thought this was complete and utter nonsense. "Stormy is dead" I tell her. "You are merely hallucinating him because you miss him so much" I say. It was the only logical explanation.

Until today.

Mom: You know how Stormy is dead to you?

Me: Yes.

Mom: Well, I saw him or a look-alike cat today and I brought him home.

Cat-napped.

So it appears to really be him. Moose would never cuddle with anyone else. (Mom was saying that it had to be Stormy because Moose didn't do anything mean to him when they were reunited. I said that Moose doesn't have the right to be mean to anyone as he doesn't have any front claws.)

This is not a democracy, this is a happy dictatorship.

I got this precious gem from my father, thanks dad.

Anyway, the Brown Couch votes have been tallied. Alas and alack it appears that the general (limited) public believes that Devin will be the first to marry and therefore claim the brown couch. Whatever. Clearly, the public is flawed. Obviously, I will win. With my charm and good looks how could I not?

But there is just one question that was on my mind throughout this Brown Couch poll extravaganza: Who in the world is voting for Devin?

Seriously.

Not that I don't love Devin. I do. He is a cool-cat like unto myself. But, seriously?

So Devin-voters it is time to come clean. Please enlighten me on why you voted for Devin. Doing so will help decrease your shame, though it can never be entirely erased.

Turn and Draw.

The winner of my 100th post drawing is

Miss Lindsay

A most lovely girl with whom I love to drink juice.

Lindsay, your package will be winding its way to you very soon. And to everyone else, thank you for reading. I love you.

Gamble everything for love.

Today I made a bet with Kimberlyn. She wanted hot chocolate. My mother had already told her that breakfast was over and that she wasn't going to make anything else. So I told her "I will make you a bet. If you can get mom to make you hot chocolate I will buy you a cookie when we go to Great Harvest today, if she doesn't make you hot chocolate then you have to scratch my back". I lost.

Also, today I ate (half) a grapefruit for breakfast. Which I have never actually done before. And I even sort of liked it. Which is weird because 1) I am an extremely picky eater and 2) I only ever eat toast or cheerios without milk for breakfast. As a rule.

And it was so pretty.

And it reminded me of pink lemonade. Which brings me to the question: Do pink lemons actually exist? Or is pink lemonade just a lie?

What she's doing now

My boots came. Early. Excitement abounds. This prima donna is ready for another rodeo.