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Bluebird of bitterness., Our sweet little Scruffy, who left us in June for that great catnip field in the sky.



Wild, wild West., The cartoon is what it’s like to home office around my place. The actual cat is Psycho Cat, hard at work defending the house from a flock of turkeys. To her credit, not a single turkey has gotten into the house during her tenure, although keeping the doors shut probably has more to do with it than she does, and she certainly hasn’t been much good at stopping them from pooping on the patio. Somebody found her on the road with a broken hip after being run over and took her to our vet, who patched her up and put her in a cage in his office waiting room hoping somebody would adopt her. Turned out she was also pregnant at the time. Mrs. whined about her for six months and after the kittens got adopted out, I finally got tired of hearing about it and told her to just go get the damn thing. Fifteen years later, she’s slowed down considerably and no longer bouncing off the walls like when she first got us, which explains how she got named Psycho Cat, but we’ve been her servants ever since.























































