See, for those of you who don't have cats, the critters do this thing I like to call "getting their groove on": Basically, they pick a place they're fond of and start kneading it with both sets of paws. Having trouble with the visual? It looks kind of like marching in one place, with purring and an intense, trance-like stare on their face. Anyway, my little guy, Elliott, has just started grooving on the down comforter in the bedroom in the mornings, while my older one, Ruben, who used to target one of my cashmere sweaters, tends to do it wherever he pleases.

Well, Kaffy's sexy little man, Mickey, likes to do it on his mama, preferably on her side and boob if at all possible. Mama, however, is not fond of Mickey grooving on her side and boob, because in the process he also hits her rib, and that's not very nice.

So, Kaffy, having just endured an intense several weeks between work and school, decided Saturday was going to be her day to wear jammies, stew in her own juices and do NOTHING all day except watch movies. She was lying on her couch doing just that when the Schmick decided he needed the groove -- except she started getting squicked as she was relaying the story.


At least he found a way to finish the job himself, I reckon.
Oh, whatEVER.