Meow

Meow Meow

Today my kittens are one year old, which means, technically speaking, they are no longer kittens, though I reserve the right to keep calling them my kittens anytime I want.

They arrived tiny and clueless, but under my excellent supervision they have grown into proper young cats. Under my expert supervision, however, they have grown into strong, clever, respectable young cats. 

I must reluctantly acknowledge the editor. She has been… somewhat useful. While I handled the important duties, the editor performed the more mundane tasks. In fairness, she did an acceptable job. Not perfect, of course, but acceptable... as she should. Still, the credit remains primarily mine. 

So today we celebrate: twelve months of growth, mischief, and magnificent feline development. There will be extra food, extra lounging, and perhaps a ceremonial knocking of something off the table: a proper celebration.

Meow

It's Women's Day... so today I may acknowledge my maid / editor's existence by allowing her to hold me for eighteen seconds. 🐾

Meow Meow

If you’ve been waiting for my next book, the wait is almost over. In two weeks, my new book will be released. I would describe it as a masterpiece, but modesty prevents me from saying so too loudly.

If you haven’t been waiting, well... you probably should have been.

Meow

I, Iran in fur

Mouse breath quick beneath my paw

Hunt ends how it must

Meow Meow

 Hazel

Meow

I enjoy watching my kittens as they stride through this house like aristocrats inspecting their estate. They're not even one year old, and yet they have learned so much. They study me constantly: how I enter a room, how I pause before speaking, how I sit in a way that tells the editor, "Yes, I am aware you are lucky." My mini majesties know that the editor exists to open cans and admire genius, but, frankly, she is more than that: I allow her to clean the litter boxes, too.