So the cat has a big personality. He got presents. He is not all that young anymore but swears like a trooper and enjoys a party. We think he is fifteen, which would make him seventy-seven in human years. I took pictures for his blog but happened to like them a lot, and here we are. I am particularly fond of the third one where the little taxi – it cranks and will drive off the table’s edge with beautiful fatality – reflects in his eye.

Trying out the new catnip mat