Cats

Oscar is going through a sleep-on-the-back-of-the-recliner phase, which lets him crash out while still keeping an ear on what we’re doing. He was zonked so hard this afternoon that he looked like a fuzzy little pear. I wish I could sleep that hard. Cat goals, man.

Oscar has always loved to help me do the laundry. He hops in the baskets, he hops onto the washer to peer inside, and he hops onto the bed to prevent me from removing or replacing the sheets. He’s an especially big fan of bed-making prevention. His method of prevention is to squeak and fangwipe

Oscar was wigging about with his favorite milk top this afternoon and happened to knock it into the latest box fort. He approved of this situation and decided they both needed to stay for a while. Brian was home for lunch and caught the pic, which is perfect. That Godzilla expression, those whiskers… he’s a

Oscar has really taken a liking to Wolfie’s old bed. At this point I’d say he’s claimed it for his own because he spends a lot of time there bird watching and napping. I find him like this often. It’s a tight fit, but I don’t think he’ll outgrow it unless he gets significantly wider.

Oscar was basking in his sun patch this morning when Udo and I returned from our walk, so I of course attempted pictures. To get the best angles, I always get in the floor with him. Sometimes this works and he stays put for a minute. Most of the time he gets up and kisses

Oscar decided to help me hang the curtains back up after I washed them this weekend. And by help, I mean blockade. He likes my step stool almost as much as I do and was not interested in letting me use it. I swear I could hear him going “Thfffffffpt!” What a little turkey.