Step Kids

Nah, they’re not step kids really, they’re my very own kids, fur and all.

I just love the solemness of the little display here.

Yes, it’s morning.

Yes, Mom is up and moving around.

Breakfast, however, has not been made.

There’s a little bit of judgement going on here, certainly some alarm; definitely a great deal of consternation.

I’m rushing to clean the kitchen first, before I have to leave for class, but helpless under the weight of their regard, I fold.

The crisp crack of the Fancy Feast lid sears apart the air…

releasing suddenly manically eager kittens tumbling frantically down the stairs

to their dish.


Cat drama.