Sometimes when I'm going number 2 my cat, Pumpkin, likes to curl up in my pants sitting on the floor. He gets all comfy and snuggled up in there and I feel bad when I'm done and I've got to move him. After all, I don't want a cat living in my underwear.
Our cat, Pumpkin, is quite a unique cat. Just in case you have never met Pumpkin he is the Great Blogs of Fire mascot featured at the top of the page. He is constantly if not always doing something absolutely adorable. Sometimes I'll be typing in the computer room and Amanda will freak out, screaming, "Kyle, come here! Hurry! Quick, Kyle! Look at Pumpkin! Look what he's doing!" If I don't go she gets really down if I miss it. So, expecting to see Pumpkin wearing a bowtie and smoking a pipe while writing a letter to the President using perfect cursive with a ballpoint pen and saying "How do you spell incompetent," I get up and move into whatever room is hosting Pumpkin's marvelous feat.
Most likely it's nothing special. He's turned himself up-side-down, or is curled up underneath a blanket with just his face poking out or maybe Amanda's got him wrapped up in a blanket, all swaddled up like a fury-faced baby Jesus. Once he was sitting on the sofa like a person and Amanda (Who had probably propped him up there) thought this was grounds to call me away from the computer. She was right. Every time. I'm a softy for manufactured gooshiness, what can I say?
I've posted this picture before but I like it.
What I want you to know. Which is everything.
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