I Love My Furbabies

Okay, this is a really cheesy post about how much I love my cats so if you really aren't in the mood for gushing, please stop reading. I won't mind. Really.

I love my cats. They bring such joy and delight to my life. I don't care that I'm turning into a crazy cat lady, I really don't. I love the fact that I have living, breathing, sometimes cooperative, stuffed animals. I can hug them and squeeze them (but not name them George) and neither one has yet to put a claw in my eye. (Not that my stuffed animals ever did that either. That would have made for a REALLY disturbing childhood, I would think).

Anyway. Jasper is sacked out on the floor. At 7:24am. God! What a hard life he leads. Being unbearably and obnoxiously adorable is obviously a very tough job for him. Poor baby.

And Isabella is skulking around, trying to look tough but failing miserably. She's just to pretty. Hard to believe she used to be an alley cat. She's certainly my pretty woman!

Okay. I think I just made myself gag on that one. Blech, yeech, yuck. Good Lord, something just took over my cynical brain and turned me into a mushball.

Must. Go. Clense. Fight. The. Cuteness.