Category Archives: Catblogging

Friday Catblogging: Looking Around

Here’s Paul Drake performing a cat scan while begging:

My cats have always liked Yes because of Jon Anderson’s high voice. That’s why they get the last word:

Friday Guest Catblogging: Brother Louie

Little Buddy is a repeat offender. I’d like to introduce his canine brother, Louie. They appear to be giving their human, Kyle, the evil eye. He’s a drummer so he probably had it coming.

This one’s for the pooch:

Friday Catblogging: Big Box Boy

A big ass box took up residence in our living room for a few days. Paul Drake turned it into his new home. Anyone surprised? I thought not.

Tuesday Catblogging

I have come to the conclusion that Slade is not fat. He’s SOLID. He is SUBSTANTIAL. He is made of muscle covered with fluff, and when I pick him up he’s less like a pillow than a rock.

A silly, silly, silly rock.

rock lardster


Friday Catblogging: The Belly Chronicles

Supposedly cats in the wild never show their bellies. To say that Paul Drake is domesticated is an understatement.

Sunday Catblogging

Ada disapproves. She disapproves of us being home. She disapproves when we leave. She disapproves of us cleaning, but will also chase us around the house yowling when her litterbox is not pristine and her water bowl not refreshed. She viscerally loathes dust bunnies and will try to bite them when they appear. She screams for food, only to back away and let bro-lo el gordito eat it all. She wants to lay on top of me when I’m reading, but then paws me in the face. This look of vague contempt follows us from one room to the next all over the house:


The one thing she does that is not disapproving is to be a consistent alarm system. She once warned us the basement was flooding, and yesterday when her big dumb lard of a brother didn’t come racing up the stairs for breakfast, she yelled the whole house down until we found him trapped in a drawer full of towels he had somehow managed to PUT HIMSELF IN AND THEN CLOSE. Despite her obvious mental superiority she does NOT disapprove of him, and will occasionally deign to let him sleep near, but not next to, her.

We all love her so much and she is just the worst.


Friday Guest Catblogging: Mirror Tricks

I know what you’re thinking: Cats don’t do tricks. But they do like looking in the mirror. You’ve met this week’s guest kitties before. Whiskers and Milo room with my friend Stephanie’s family. Milo is in the background looking befuddled by the critters in the mirror. The picture was taken by Stephanie’s daughter, Catie. Thanks, kiddo.

Old Metry Cats

Tuesday Catblogging

Adrastos said I should do this so here you go, here is our dumbass, here is the biggest lard on earth, all he does is flop around and whine for pets and playtime like a fucken dog. Like I am eating breakfast and he drags the half-dismembered feather stick toy over and drops it on my feet and nudges my knee and then puts his paws up on my lap and then if I STILL don’t pay attention BECAUSE I’M EATING BREAKFAST YOU DUMB HAMBONE he starts to meow.


He almost never meows. His sister screams at us from dawn til dusk but he is quiet unless he’s very angry (growling) or very needy (playtime while I’m TRYING TO DRINK MY GODDAMN COFFEE IN PEACE).

If’en I wanted a damn dog I would have got a dog. I got some cats because they would ignore me most of the time, not because I needed two more things in my house that would pester me for attention.

I give up and throw his stupid stick for him to fetch every time, though, because look at his dumb lard face. Every night around 9:30 he comes over to the couch and flops himself on me like he’s just had a hard day at work and needs a beer, and he purrs and purrs and purrs.



Friday Catblogging: Back Back Back

Paul Drake loves to rush the front door. He’s a house cat who thinks he wants to go outside. Not bloody likely: we live on a busy street that runs parallel to an even busier street. Sorry, Paulie.

I like to joke that Back Back Back is one of PD’s nicknames. Given his ongoing obsession with the Revel boudin meatloaf bag, another one could be Bag Bag Bag:

Friday Catblogging: Bagging It

This is the touching story of a boy and his bag. The bag originally contained two orders of boudin meatloaf cooked by our friend Chef Chris DeBarr at Revel. They’re no longer serving takeout but Paul Drake adopted the bag with a thank you note as his own. It’s lasted longer than most bags in our house.

The last word goes to Ray Charles and Milt Jackson:

Friday Catblogging: Handsome

It’s been a big week for Paul Drake. He’s joined some of Dr. A’s Zoom meetings and he licked a tuna can clean yesterday. That may not sound like a big deal to you but it is for PD. No wonder he looks so smug as well as downright handsome:

Friday Catblogging: Relaxed

In a time of tension and fear, Paul Drake can be counted on to relax:

I’ve been known to sing to my cats. They’re particularly fond of Yes. I think they like Chris and Jon’s high harmonies. I tweeted about it recently:


The last word goes to Yes:


Friday Catblogging: PD’s Waterloo

We’ve restocked the Tower of Terror with seltzer. Will it doom Paul Drake? Not bloody likely. The Duke of Wellington is nowhere to be found. Anyone have a beef with that?

The last word goes to The Kinks:

Friday Throwback Catblogging: Pogo In Exile

I’ve had my favorite cousin on my mind since her passing. We spent 3 weeks with her during our Katrina exile. She loved having us, especially our cats Pogo and Oscar. They, of course, took over the joint.

Here are two pictures of the late great Pogo during her time in Texas:

Friday Throwback Catblogging: Friday The 13th Edition

This is my favorite picture of the late great Della Street:

Friday Catblogging: Social Climber

While we were in Texas our friend and neighbor of 20 years, Alli, took care of Paul Drake.  She’s officially Aunt Alli after she let PD climb her legs. It’s what he does.

Friday Catblogging: The Case Of The Shamus & The Sign

Yeah, I know, Paul Drake’s namesake was the detective, not him. He does, however, investigate everything and everyone that enters our house.

Here’s PD and a sign Dr. A made for a friend in the Nyx parade.

Friday Catblogging: Table Manners

The title is, of course, ironic because Paul Drake has none. He’s charming until he tries to steal your dinner. That’s one reason he needs to wear a bell:

Friday Throwback Catblogging: Still Missing Della

Paul Drake remains a solo artist. I’m still not ready to get another cat. Our longtime vet’s staff mishandled everything about what turned out to be her last visit. He is no longer our vet but they keep sending us shit. Knock it off, y’all.

Here’s a picture of Della Street on my lap:

Tuesday Catblogging

Whatever is going to happen in New Hampshire tonight, Slade and Ada would like you to know that as long as their food bowls are full and their litterboxes pristine, they don’t give even a single fuck.

two cats chair