Sing A Song Of Sebastian

Sebastian.  A/k/a Spanky Pete.  He doesn't get a lot of press, because he's not crazy.  He doesn't make trouble; he doesn't do naughty things.  He's not perfect, oh no.  He has a tendency to yowl at night - well, every night, but this is a trait common to many male Keetains who believe they have exceptional singing voices.

Let zem eat birthday cake!

Hey, yesterday was my birthday, my uncertain-ageth.  Much to my delight I received several posts from my dear friends on Facebook.  Two e-cards came as well, a vanishing custom.  More amazing still, I received two greeting cards on actual card stock, a way of life which is nearly extinct, sadly.

These last are worth noting, so here they are.

Fat Cat

Keaton, that big loaf of cat.  I could fill an entire blog with his antics alone.  I could also fill a three story townhouse with his ever increasing bulk.

Although he is not a Hemingway, somewhere along the line Keaton seems to have developed an opposable thumb.  This secret digit allows him to break into sealed containers to procure victuals on the sly, far from the watchful eye of She Who Would Try To Keep His Weight Down.  Worse, he demonstrates a considerable predilection for sweets.  So much for the obligate carnivore theory.