September 2, 2006


A picture of Poe. My cat. Why? Because I can.

Poe lives with my sister and brother-in-law whilst I cavort willy-nilly around the world with no apparent schedule or time frame to pin me down. I hear she's living the life of Reilly while I'm away. Salmon every Tuesday! Royal cushions galore! She's a blue blood through and through. It's my fault. I make no apologies for spoiling her adorable little kitten ass when I first got her.

This actually directly relates to my in-the-planning-stages island resort, the Nouveau Fantasy Island. Poe will come live with me there where she will have an entire suite of rooms turned into a giant scratching post labyrinth with heaps of cushions in every corner and windows overlooking her more feral counterparts at every turn. (Presumably so she may take notes on what real cats do out in the wild while she spends her time getting claw-icures and trying to type.) Anyway, all cats will be welcome on the island. Pets are not only invited, but insisted upon. If any guest doesn't have a cat of their own, a feline companion will be provided for the duration of their stay. And if any guest dislikes cats, they'll be fed to the tigers. Which probably isn't the definition of irony (unless you're Alanis Morissette) but would be sort of amusing, in a gallows humor kind of way.