The Power of Pussy

I am about to commit a blogging faux-pas and talk about my cat. (Please, don't any of you tell the A-listers.) See, K and I got totally suckered into adopting a feral kitten found by a coworker of mine. We brought him home last night and he immediately disappeared for about 3 hours. Hey, I thought, this cat thing isn't so bad if he rarely emerges.

You know I have this thing about pets, right? Don't ask me how I got snookered this time. I mean, this kitten is cute and all, and I've actually *named* him: K and Dana's Imperial Mr. Gordon Lightfoot. We'll see how long I remain charmed by him. (Don't worry, I promise not to blog about it.)

Anyhow, he eventually did emerge around 5:30 this morning. He stood on my chest and proudly performed that standard kitten pelvic ballet I like to call

This. Is. My. BUTTHOLE!

So I got up and fed him. He ate and then disappeared again. How is this supposed to lower my blood pressure?