if my cat only had thumbs... then again, he'd probably use them to strangle me in my sleep

cecil, the gray-haired, spoiled brat of a cat that i absolutely adore, somehow finds a way to sit on, claw into, chew on or play with [as in, to swat violently at something with his enormous talons] any drawing that i happen to be working on.

why is it that paper is just paper to cecil until i start working on it [after that, it apparently becomes a toy]? the best part about the whole thing is that cecil [also known in my house as 'the big, furry alarm clock'] will just look at you when you ask him 'what the hell do you think you're doing?,' as if he's never been so sure about a place where he wants to lick his butt in his whole life...

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