Stanley LOVES my beard, and he lives to Catbeard me, inception style (since I already have a big bushy fuck off beard.)
15 years ago, Heather came home with a flea-infested feral kitten. Soon we realized a mound of new bullshit had been introduced to our lives.
Mom watches TV, Dad watches the dog, and the dog watches HIS baby, crashed out on the top of the cat tower.
Idle hands are the devil’s workshop? As a dork with too many synapses looking for trouble, my idle hands must be juggling Satan’s balls.
Like many cats, Stanley has his dignity. He likes to look regal and impressive, which means he doesn’t like to get caught kneading.
We’ve had some warm days as summer winds down, which means everyone flops in front of a fan in the afternoon. Oscar looks comfortably melted.
Udo stayed in the Bear Chair while Oscar ambushed Brian on the couch, leading to this view. Tired dog oozes out of chair as cat looks on.
All of our cats like to lay in the sunlight that shines through our patio door in the morning. Sometimes they squabble over it. Not today.
Oscar stashes toys everywhere: our bed, Udo’s bed, the furniture, etc. Only the most favored toys make it into The Lair, though.
Nutterbutter woke up and moved because I was being annoying with the camera. That just gave me a chance to catch a shot of them together.