Fred

Can I just say that I've been trying very hard to write a literary post about writing or revision, or to have another author interview on this blog (which I promise I will very soon) but everytime I sit down to write one of these very important things, I cannot get anything done at all because something jumps in my lap and that something is this very adorable kitten we just got named Fred.


Actually Fred is my husband's cat. I went to the Animal Shelter last week and adopted him because although we have one barn cat named Lucy, and one animal shelter cat named Bugs, and one feral cat we found in our attic that is not very tame at all named Xena, none of these cats would come to my husband because they are all very shy and so he needed his own cat. So I picked this cat out for him because he is not a bit shy and so my husband named him Fred and he sleeps in my husband's lap and when he is not sleeping he is getting into everything and being bratty which is why I am typing so fast so I can get this blog post written before he wakes up:

Because I forgot that when little kittens are not cuddlingpurringnapping they are racingchasingattackingeverything and whoops, he's awake now I gotta go . . .