Regardless, he smells a hell of a lot better than the dog

I’ve been struggling on a blog topic tonight.  Most of the time I just feel like I’m chatting with you all, telling you a silly story from my day, or complaining about something in my trademark self righteous way.  Having something to say has NEVER been my problem.

Except today.  I texted Kelli, “need blog topic, stat” but she must already be asleep.  My Honey had nothing for me.  I’m too lazy to get up and go through my notes on my desk to see if there is anything I can work with.  I can’t get up anyway.  My Assistant is sitting next to me on the couch and anyone who owns a cat knows you can’t disturb a cat when they’re sleeping.  I don’t know why exactly, but it’s just not done.  Ever.

Right now he’s draped over the cushions, his chin in the edge and both front arms hanging over the sides.  His fat belly

Here he is looking testy

 rises slowly with deep, sleepy breaths.  His tail flicks endlessly even in his sleep.  Every once in a while, he’ll lift his head up and move his ears like satellite dishes and then put his head back down and slip back into his feline coma.

If there are papers to sit on or molest in any way, he’s on it.  Literally.  On it.  With his butt.  But tonight he’s holding down the couch.  It’s a very important job.  Gavity is nothing to mess with, people.