When I awoke this morning in the normal human way rather than being smothered in soft black kitten fur I began to panic a little. I soon realized that he hadn’t been in to try to suck out my soul cuddle up against my face and neck at all during the night. So I immediately got up and went on a kitten hunt assuming he’d gotten shut in the basement or perhaps was busy sucking E’s soul out instead of mine because he preferred his soul sandwiches pure and unadulterated. Unfortunately, (or fortunately in E’s soul’s case I guess) he was nowhere to be found. Just then I happen to look out toward the back deck and there all Oliver Twist-like is Ozzie on the picnic table. I have no idea how or when he got outside. I know he was in before we left for babysitting jobs and piano lessons. E says he was on her lap at one time while she was on the computer last night. All I can figure is that he must have hitched a ride under one of the black dogs on their way out for their pre-bedtime constitutional.

He’s been in a frenzy of chest-kneading-attempted-soul-sucking all morning.

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