Slane

"Their god is their belly"

-Philippians 3:19

Behold the visage of a very bad cat.

His yowling usually starts at 4:30, but last night he was feeling like an overacheiver and started at 3. Peg chased him into the extra bedroom and shut the door, and I could hear him in there continuing to serenade the building.

A little before six I woke up and let him out of cat jail.

He had pooped on the floor. He had pooped on the bed. He vomited in front of his litter box. Apparently he's not happy with his present situation.

And then he had the temerity to claw at the bathroom door and cry during my moment of solitude because Little Lord Fauntelroy would like his breakfast. Now.

He knows my last exam is in about three hours, and is doing all he can to interfere with final prep.

And here I am writing this, so I guess he's succeeded.