When my washing machine finishes a cycle, it sounds like an ice cream truck.

Which has nothing to do with anything, except that I just heard it and started craving a bullet pop.

So far in September I've taken 708 pictures, and a great many of them are similar to this:

Last night P was illustrating the ironic similarities between KiKi and myself. If I'm being honest, I had already recognized some of it. I mean, we both like to curl up on my favorite fleece blanket. We both like to hide when there are more than 3 neighborhood kids visiting. We both like to take catnaps in the middle of the day- though mine are always interrupted after about 4 minutes. But mostly, we're both ridiculously independent.

I mean, everyone knows cats are stubborn, and keep to their own agenda. If we looked at nothing else, that right there is sufficient to make one wonder if indeed I have not been misclassified and should actually be part of the Felidae family. Oh sure, I'm a little less fuzzy. And yes, I prefer a more varied diet. I don't have to wear tags around my neck (well actually, does my ID badge for work count?) and most significantly Aeryn cannot throw me over her shoulder like a stuffed snake and drag me to and fro as her heart desires.

It may seem like a silly comparison, but really, after all the time I spent pining for a dog I can't believe how much I love having a cat. If only I could hide above the cabinets. It seems the view would be awfully nice from up there.