Geeze, just five minutes ago it seemed like it was Tunasday.

Mine is in his window box, trying to keep his eyes open in case a bird or squirrel ambles by.

What an adorable kitty.

She's 20, so we put up with it.

Came up to the door and called me about 1 AM for some food. They hooked on these little soups.

Last night, he wouldn't get out of a drawer in the buffet where we store tablecloths and so on. He even jumps into the laundry hamper, if it's available. It's about 40" tall, and he has to knock it over to get out of it, because the angle is too steep to clear the rim without just falling back in.

If my wife locks him out of the bedroom (which involves putting a stick of fairly precise length under the door lever so it can't be opened from the outside and is always between 5:30 and 6), he starts acting like a complete asshole, thinking he will force some action from a human, and that action had better be good.

On the second day he was here, he figured out how to open the interior doors, which have levers instead of knobs. He is now trying to work out the Venetian mini-blinds. He knows the dangling strings are not just enticing, but essential to the operation of the blinds. His chief obstacle seems to be a lack of thumbs.

Those boxes are like a little cozy house. They love 'em.

I wish it was so easy for us to find that bliss