Sylvester likes to come in and sleep for a while in a bed next to the cat tower, where I usually sprinkle catnip.
Is he stoned, or just tired?
Smokey likes to hang around the dining room table while we eat, hoping we’ll give him something. Monday night Mark had a ground turkey patty and I had a pork chop, but all we had left over was mashed potatoes. I didn’t think he would actually eat them, but he did.
He looked up when Mark took the picture.
It looked like he was thinking, “What’s the matter with you? There’s nothing to see here.”
We were really surprised Thursday morning. The Atlanta TV weather forecasters expected us to get around five inches, but we didn’t believe it. Instead we got seven.
The cats all went out in the morning. Mark saw Smokey walking in a crouch across the driveway. The snow wasn’t as deep on the driveway, but it drifted up against the garage door so deep it was hard for the cats to come and go.
He looked like he was stalking something. He was. Rusty was his target.
That’s Rusty, with Chloe standing a little ways off.
Rusty turned to meet him.
He doesn’t scare Rusty.