Befitting a cat named after a fictional shamus, Paul Drake investigates everything that comes in the house. This stroller carried the 6 week old daughter of one of Dr. A’s favorite former students. Her father fell in love with PD who, in turn, fell in love with the stroller:
You’ve seen Paul Drake the sink walker, here he is relaxing in the bathtub:
That’s a whole lotta white, y’all. It looks like an Osmonds concert with shower curtains.
Are you ready for PD’s brand new theme song? Little Feat get the last word.
It’s become clear to me that while you all are somewhat here for the cursing and cock jokes and thirst pictures of politicians, you also demand quality cat content. Here’s Ada, the prettiest kitty-witty in the entire universe:
A.
Spring has sprung in the neighborhood and there are birds everywhere so Thing One and Thing Two here are constantly tearing through the house going window to window to chase them from inside because they are the dumbest cats alive.
A.
One week ago today, Dr. A posted these pictures side-by-side on social media. Are you ready for Della on the tower of terror and a sink walking PD? Good. You have no choice.
Paul Drake fancies himself a doorman:
We were trying to get Della and Paul to look in the same direction but you know what they say about herding cats.
The only things that are open and shut in this side-by-study are Paul Drake’s eyes. BUT he’s named for a famous fictional detective so he’s always on the case.
Della Street and Paul Drake have their issues but most of the time they get along well. One thing they agree on is that the space heater is awesome.
We recently got a new fuzzy blanket, as the fuzzy blanket a former coworker gifted us prior to Kick’s birth has completely fallen apart, and Ada has spent the past two weeks surgically attached to it:
I think she thinks it’s her mom, or a friend. She kneads it, grooms it, takes it in her mouth and shakes it to discipline it … We’ve gotta get her a stuffed animal or something.
A.
During Carnival we have all sorts of interesting bags about the house. Della Street has made this one her own.
I know it’s been a while. These two dumbasses are the best. They spent the recent polar vortex curled up basically on top of us and when I’m sick or otherwise incapacitated they’re on me at all times purring and kneading and grooming me. Slade eats constantly but also is constantly mewing to play fetch so he’s not gaining weight so much as getting swole. Ada disdains the very expensive cat fountain we bought for her and will sit on the counter yelling until we turn on the kitchen tap, then swats water at her brother. Kick picks them both up like a forklift and carries them around the house like stuffies and they never, ever bite her. There is fur just fucking EVERYWHERE and they disembowel their toys and stash the innards under the dining room table for us to find like some kind of horrifying CSI: KittyMurder.
We love them so so so so so much.
A.
It’s not much of a tower and it’s not all that terrifying but that’s what we call it:
Dennie the Den of Muses cat has a new friend. She’s a calico torti named Mini. She even has a rapper name, Mini D. Here she be:
It’s time for the latest installment in the continuing saga of Della Street and Paul Drake’s space heater love. It looks they’re doing yoga.
Here’s a picture Dr. A took of Paul Drake on his Gotcha Day: Twelfth Night.
It’s Carnival season. That means we’ll spending Saturdays working on this year’s Spank float for Krewe du Vieux 2019. That, in turn, means a special guest appearance by Dennie the Den of Muses cat:
The last word goes to the Zombies:
Della and Paul have many boxes to choose from right now.
FYI, Sunday is PD’s gotcha day. He’s a Twelfth Night cat even if he prefers pizza to King Cake.
We spent the night in Red Stick on Christmas Eve and returned home the next afternoon. Della Street was indignant. Paul Drake was pitiful. Some things never change.
We revived PD’s spirits with a new box:
