One Talented, Handsome Feline Scribe, Hard At Work

  Okay, I'm going to expose a little lie here.   Since cats don't have fingers it's really difficult for us to type, so I thought I'd show how I'm able to pull off writing this blog.  As independent as I am I need dad's help to write this thing, and this is how we do it.  I climb up onto his lap and cover my eyes, and in a matter of minutes I'm sound asleep.  

     My thoughts slowly begin trickling out of my head and get absorbed by dad's belly, where they get transformed into words that flow through his fingers (even though, at this particular moment his left hand has to support my butt and his right the camera). 

     Just kidding.  I actually do my own writing.  This picture represents a typical early morning battle that I ordinarily lose, only this time I got my way.  I don't like sharing dad's lap with the computer, and he usually shoves me off when I try to sit with him, but he gave in, slid the thing down towards his knees and made room for me.  Do I call the shots here or what?!