
Patches and Her Mum


I think it’s adorable when patches hangs out on the bookcase.

The cat was on my desk. I lined up a sweet portrait mode shot of the cat’s face in the foreground and the candles in the background.
Just as I snapped the cat ran away.

I guess you can still enjoy the candles. I guess. Dumb cat.


Patches is old enough that it takes work to get her to pose.

Pout, babie. Pout.
I’m going into the office tomorrow. My second time since they reopened the building. I need to make a lunch, I need to wear a collared shirt. I need to not forget my freakin wireless headphones again.
I’m nervous about Covid, of course, but I guess I need to just put some faith in the two vaccine shots and the booster shot and just suck it up and deal with it.
Patches agrees.


I forgot to turn down the burner and messed up the quinoa. I had to throw on a second batch to recover and it wasn’t great.
Patches is totally judging my culinary skills, or lack there of.
Patches on desk patrol.

Ms Patches is pleased that the Bruins followed Thursday’s nasty loss with a win today. She’s breathing a sigh of hockey relief.

Patches rings in the weekend the way she rings in any old day: Lazily.
