Catdadical?

Cat dad? Radical cat dad?  Or cat dad on a sabbatical?  Or all of the above! Yes, it's the latter, and per the suggestion of the lovely Travis, I decided to blog about taking care of Paul and Sheila while Jake is away in India.

First things first, this is irony at its finest.  As of two years ago, I would have vehemently opposed having the feline species in my place of residence, but here we are in the present, and I'm catching myself having conversations with 2 four-legged creatures on a daily basis.

That's Paul having a minor tizz adjusting.  He stayed in the basement for a good while and would peek his head around the stairs just to see and then dart back downstairs.  He progressed to only upstairs on day 2 and is now roaming about pretty freely on day 3, with only occasional bouts of excessive whining.

Sheila, whom I have in general thought of as affectionately "bitchy,"  took to my house right away.  She even felt enough at home to follow me around everywhere, sleep by my head, and bite off the strap to my one of my purses.  It's fine, it matches the sandal she chewed the strap off of last summer.  (I didn't forget, Sheila.)

That's Sheila getting caught playing with the lamp cords underneath the couch.  She doesn't really listen to me but I pretend like diverting her attention is helpful.  And I'm writing this blog sitting on the chair instead of in the kitchen because Paul whined enough to make me move.  That's the thing with the cats and myself. They can pretty much get me to do whatever they want because I anthropomorphize them and think, "Oh, I know you're sad your cat dad is gone, ok, I'll pet you for an hour instead of doing anything else productive."  

So that's how it's going so far.  Pretty well I think, overall.  And cat dad is not my term.  It's Jake's.  We just needed to clear that up.