punk cat.


“Adam, look!” I said, tipping my head toward the living room window.  He looked out, into the window of our neighbor’s sun porch where her lion of an orange cat was sleeping.  “Look how fat he is and how happy on that afghan!  Now THAT is a cozy cat!” I gushed.  “He’s even cozier than Eliot,” I said smiling at my own kitty.

Five minutes later, Adam found him snuggled up in the cradle.  The cradle Eliot hasn’t once tried to sit in since Reed came home.  I swear, he was getting back at me for saying that our neighbor cat is cozier.

He has been sneaking into the cradle ever since.  And I can’t just shoo him out.  When I try to pick him up, he makes himself as heavy and cumbersome as possible, especially when I have a baby in my arms.

Punk cat.


One thought on “punk cat.

  1. My dog Moby used to sleep in my cradle all the time when I was little. The pictures are so precious. He also liked to sleep on top of laundry when it was in a basket. Must be an pet thing!

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