Mayday!

"9-1-1...emergency services."

---"THERE'S A WOMAN IN MY HOUSE!"

"Sir, calm down."

---"ANIMALS...STRANGE ANIMALS!"

"Is this an emergency? Are you OK? What is your address...where are you..."

---"THE LITTLE ONE IS BITING!"

"What is the nature of your emergency?"

---"Actually, it kind of tickles. (laughing)..look at that...she can't break the skin!"

"Idiot."

Day Three

Now there is Marvin. He is a medicated cat, slower than he was last week.
He is still freaked out by his new surroundings and will not be meeting Sam until September 15th.
You are apparently supposed to make sure male cats adapt to sharing their environments for a time before actually allowing them to meet face to face.

Marvin refused to be photographed for this article.

Day Two

Now there are four.
Me, Sue, Sam, Paisley.
Paisley is the smart one.
Q*bert and Galaga have left the building and made way for the one-pound majesty of a creature who thrives on dried pineapple and potato chips. Paisley has all the characteristics of a puppy but is box trained (mostly) and is clearly more intelligent. She is curious in the extreme and eager to wrestle with me, despite my substancial weight advantage and color vision.
Also, my species has nuclear weapons.
Still she bites.
She can't even break the skin.
It's tragically comic to be attacked by such a lovable little monster.

Day One

There are more clothes in my home than at any time before.
I fear I may be crushed beneath them if a sturdy and attractive storage system is not located soon.
Also more wicker.
Baskets...who needs so many baskets?
I am unsure if potpourri is involved.

Moment of Zen

To all my friends at the Daily Show (Ø) I would like to thank you for a special day in the sweltering New York of Manhattan.
To the Amtrak Acela rail people I would like to say that a "high-speed" train needs to arrive before the regular speed service that is provided. I know that local sissies don't like fast trains on their backyard railroad tracks - they like to park their cars there. They relish the 45 minute symphony provided by your 30 mile-per-hour Metro North clunkers as they pass through their blighted neighborhoods and
I suggest to you though the following mathematical argument.
High Speed > Regular Speed
Furthermore, up the people's collective bungholes!
We need speedy bullet trains now!
When I see cars pass me on I-95 as I ride America's premiere high-speed rail service I become confused and belligerent, screaming that "I'm all taking over these whole train! MAKE GO FAAAST!" Then I spend the night in train jail and no one really wins do they?