When you're on deadline, and someone feels neglected....

First, we have the accusing look....

The artist then channels those feeling of neglect into a powerful statement....

As you can see, the result: a masterpiece of feline expression.

I AM THE CHILD. 

I HAVE SPOKEN. 

THIS IS THE WAY.

The Mom: Don't worry, baby... the book publishes day after tomorrow....

Faraday The Neglected: That's what they always say. *hrmpf*

Record Breaking Mews?

Maxwell: Mo-o-m-m-m-m! It's MINUS FIFTEEN DEGREES OUTSIDE.

Faraday: Seriouslies, Maxie, can you hold it down? Some of us are trying to ignore the Mondays over here.

Maxwell: But dood, it's, like, record breaking cold with wind chills of—

Allie: Maxie, do we look like we care?

 Maxwell: *sigh-h-h*   

The Mom: It's tough being the smart kitty in the family, isn't it dood?

Maxwell: Momma, you have no idea....

We heard it was snowing in HOUSTON today of all places! 

Craaaazy weather! What's it like where you are?

* * *

Holiday Woes

Allie: Hannukah might be over, but a good gefilte fish is always in season.

I'll just make a quick grab before the brat —

*cue Look Of Discontent*

I HEAR YOU, BRAT. GO AWAY.

Faraday: What? What?!? Didn't anyone tell you, Allie? 

This is a double-decker box!

Allie: *sigh* Nothing ruins a girl's day quite like a *sniff-f-f* stinky brother.

 Faraday: Hey-y-y! Mommy sez I resemble that remark!

We hope your holidays are going smoothly. The Mom's recovering from surgery on her fractured hand, and will likely not be posting much over the next six weeks while she's in a cast.....

 

Oh, for opposable thumbs....

December kitty...

...is ready for Spring.

* * *

Not too thankful, are you, Allie?

Faraday: Hey, Allie...

Since we're, like, both outside an' all...

I was wonnerin'...

Could you, like, maybe, you know...

Groom my head furs an' stuffs?

Jus' a little, pleeeeeez? Maxie does it alla time.

Allie: No, Brat, I won't. But you know what I will do?
Faraday: Erm, no....

Allie: Bite your head off for even thinking I might be willing to groom your sorry little...

The Mom: Ahem. Allie?

 Faraday:  HAAAALP! Mommy! HAAALP! She's gonna kill me!

The Mom: *sigh* Oh Faraday, pipe down. You're not dying....

Faraday: *grumbles* FI-I-INE. Take her side, whydontcha. *huff*

* * *

Monday Gruntles ™

 

The Mom: You, ah, look a bit scruffy, there, baby. What got your face fur all ruffled? 

Faraday: Who you calling scruffy, Mommy, huh? Have you looked inna mirror lately? 

....Well? 

Sorry Kiddo. I retract my comment....

 

* * * 

Monday Gruntles™

*Zoning out in front of heater in bafroom*

*notices Mommy sneaking up behind him wif flashy box thingy*

*gives Mommy stink eye*

 

Faraday for the Win!

I furred Mommy's shirt real good.

#winning

The Ottoman Debate

Maxwell:Dood. You're in my spot.

Faraday: Finder's keepers, loser's weepers, Maxie.

Maxwell: Yeah, but it's my turn on the ottoman, so get down.

Faraday: *blows raspberry* Why don't you come down here and make me?

 

*5 seconds later*

 

 

Maxwell: Well, if you insist....

We interrupt this blog for a book announcement

Faraday: There she goes again, Maxie, hogging all our time.
*sigh*
Maxwell: Yeah, dood, but you forget, we helped her, being her muses and all. Besides, she has cats in the books. And they talk.

Faraday: Seriouslies, Maxie....
Maxwell: Yup, and they're named after physicists, just like us.
Faraday: *rolls paw* yeah yeah yada yada

Maxwell: Don't believe me? Scroll down for an excerpt. (spoiler alert: he demands S-T-E-A-K)
Faraday: I'd rather play wif  my new toy....

Maxwell: Dood, you're cruising for trouble, aren't you?
Look, I just think it's cool that her new laptop shows her as a hologram when she types....

Monday's release: 20 sci-fi tales, and more than 600 pages, featuring a vast array of storytelling styles. Including one from our mom!

And then in two weeks, the next big book comes out (here there be CATS).
Here's an excerpt from ...

Ever wonder what the warriors of the Unit and Shadow Recon do on their days off?

If your team leader happens to be a big, badass Marine named Thaddeus Severance the Third, you might just find yourself fighting wildfires on a small terraformed planet named Ceriba, orbiting Procyon's white dwarf, Myr. And when they're done with that? There's the small matter of a payout to settle....

   "Forty-five minutes later, Micah brought the Firestrike to a rest, wheels gently kissing the tarmac at Mount Huntington Aviation. On-staff medics were standing by to receive the two smokejumpers, both of whom Nina had triaged on the way back.  

Micah hopped out and began to shrug out of his fire-retardant flight suit. He let the arms flap behind him as he joined Nina at the vessel’s side entrance and began restocking the medical supplies the medics had brought along with them.

Movement behind the medics caught his eye and he saw the sleek form of a large cat emerge from the tree line. It came streaking toward them across the clearing.

A piercing whistle split the air moments later, a heads-up from the tower. The cat’s ears flattened in annoyance but he didn’t break his loping stride. Thad pivoted at the sound, and then erupted in a string of low curses when he saw the animal arrowing toward them.

Micah smothered a laugh at the Marine’s reaction.

“Let me guess,” he said, stepping up beside Thad and clapping him on the shoulder. “You still owe him some steaks and he’s here to collect.”

“Dang extortionist,” Thad muttered. The black panther slowed to a prowl, chuffing as he drew to a stop in front of them.

{Deal’s a deal,} Micah heard over his wire as the cat lifted baleful green eyes and pinned them on Thad. {Fifty steaks. I’ve had three.}

Thad’s eyes narrowed and he jabbed a finger toward the large animal. “You’ve had six, you mangy bastard.”

{Too small. Had to double up,} the cat replied, batting away Thad’s finger with a massive paw.

A snort erupted from Nina, causing Thad to pivot and pin her with the kind of glare only a Marine captain could dish out.

“You have something to say, chief?” he demanded.

Micah cupped a hand over his mouth to hide a smile as Nina smirked.

“Sir, yes sir,” she said. “Just wondering if the captain bothered to negotiate the size of those steaks before he entered into the agreement, sir.”

One of the medics paused on her way past. “Chief’s got you there, Thad,” the woman said. Nodding to the black cat, she added, “Pascal’s a pretty savvy negotiator. He’s already conned cook out of ten kilos of bison jerky and two bags of catnip.”

“Catnip?” Micah’s brows rose. He turned to face Pascal. “I didn’t know panthers liked catnip.”

{Not a panther,} Pascal responded.

Micah’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

The medic tilted her head to indicate the ranger station. “A Huntington park ranger dropped by while you guys were rescuing the smokejumpers. Took one look and recognized Pascal’s build and markings.”

{Ceriban hunting cat,} the cat under scrutiny supplied, and then slitted his eyes at Thad once more. {Require lots of fresh meat. More than panthers. Deal’s now for seventy-five steaks.}

“Whoa, hoss, hold on there,” Thad protested. He crossed his arms and stared down at the big animal. “Ain’t nobody ever told you? You can’t renegotiate a contract after the fact.”

{Was negotiated based on panther intake.} Pascal gave the big Marine the feline equivalent of a smirk. {Ceriban hunting cats require more calories.}

“Why you…I oughtta….” Thad sputtered. He glowered at Pascal for another few seconds, and then turned on his heel and marched toward the ranger’s building.

(almost) Wordless Wednesday

Day 29 of our Protest. Taking up new hobbies #becauseBORED.

• • •

The Mom is busy chasing a hot book deadline coming up in September...
An' she's kinda mad wif the new Blogger interface...
So she's protesting it by dropping unedited phone pics onna blog for the next few weeks. 

Purrsonally, we think that violates Article XVII, Section 65, paragraph B in the Feline Articles of Cat-stitution.
What do you think?

Toilet Paper Trashed

Day 27 of our Protest. Expert Level: Unlocked. Boosh.

The Mom is busy chasing a hot book deadline coming up in September...
An' she's kinda mad wif the new Blogger interface...
So she's protesting it by dropping unedited phone pics onna blog for the next few weeks. 

Purrsonally, we think that violates Article XVII, Section 65, paragraph B in the Feline Articles of Cat-stitution.
What do you think?

• • •

An' ya wanna know what? The hoomins are on MY SIDE.
SRSLY. Just look:

Phone post #4

The Mom is busy chasing two hot book deadlines that are coming up in September,...
An' she's kinda mad wif the new Blogger interface...
So she's protesting it by dropping unedited phone pics onna blog for the next few weeks. 

Purrsonally, we think that violates Article XVII, Section 65, paragraph B in the Feline Articles of Cat-stitution.
What do you think?

• • •

Day 21 of our Protest:

Faraday: MO-O-OMMMM! Allie stole Daddy's rope!

EXHIBIT A:

Allie: I'm not dignifying that with a comment.

Allie: Please tell me he did not wake me for this.
The Mom: He woke you for this.
Allie: *sigh-h-h*

The Mom: Careful, baby. She sounded a bit out of sorts. Maybe you should stand down.

Faraday: I'll show you out of sorts, Mommy, Quit pokin' me. It's my job to rat on... uh, I mean report on Allie.

The Mom: *sigh* and you do it so well, too....
Faraday: *suspicious look*  Was that SARCASM, Mommy?
The Mom: Did it sound like it?

#quarantinelifewithcats
#dontaskwhyshehastherope

* * *

Kitty Pro Tip #651

When da humans aren't giving you enough attention, you hasta take matters into your own paws.
Even if it's a death-defying stunt.

Seriouslies.

~ Faraday

Photo post #3

The Mom is busy chasing two hot book deadlines that are coming up in September,...
An' she's kinda mad wif the new Blogger interface...
So she's protesting it by dropping unedited phone pics onna blog for the next few weeks. 

Purrsonally, we think that violates Article XVII, Section 65, paragraph B in the Feline Articles of Cat-stitution.
What do you think?

• • •

Day 14 of our Protest:


Faraday: Mommy thinks I'm lovin' on her book, but nah.
It just makes a great chin-scratcher.

Maxwell: Harsh, dood.
Faraday: The truth hurts, sometimes, Maxie.

#quarantinelife

* * *

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Quarantine Cuddles™

Faraday: Nooooo, Mommy. That's me gettin' ready to put the bitey on your nose....

(That, too....)

* * *

Phone Post #2

The Mom is busy chasing two hot book deadlines that are coming up in September,...
An' she's kinda mad wif the new Blogger interface...
So she's protesting it by dropping unedited phone pics onna blog for the next few weeks. 

Purrsonally, we think that violates Article XVII, Section 65, paragraph B in the Feline Articles of Cat-stitution.
What do you think?

• • •

Day 7 of our Protest:

Faraday: Oh, it's you again, Mommy. Canz you stop typing long enough to take me for a walk?
The Mom: No, baby. You snuck out here without permission — or a leash. You're going right back inside after I snap this cute pic.

Faraday: That's jus' meeeeean.

#notwinning

* * *

Phone Post #1

The Mom is busy chasing two hot book deadlines that are coming up in September,...
An' she's kinda mad wif the new Blogger interface...
So she's protesting it by dropping unedited phone pics onna blog for the next few weeks. 

Purrsonally, we think that violates Article XVII, Section 65, paragraph B in the Feline Articles of Cat-stitution.
What do you think?

• • •

Day 1 of our Protest:

Faraday: Mommy, I needs in your lap.
The Mom: I'm sorry, baby, but I'm writing right now. Can it wait until later?

Faraday:  ... No.

#winning

* * *