I know that I shouldn't expect much of a cat, but our boy's been clammoring for the past 10 minutes for me to play with him. I've been trying to write (having already "enjoyed" cleaning the gutters; God, that stuff is disgusting!), and he keeps popping his mouth off, flicking his tail at my nose, and bopping his head under my chin.Or maybe he's saying, if you let me out in the back yard on this lovely day, you can finish the last few pages of revisions to your novel in the porch you cleaned up. Wouldn't that be nice?
Maybe with a scotch.
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