Your task from Friday: given the photo of the kitty in the laundry, determine both a) the name of the cat in the laundry and b) whether the laundry was dirty or clean.

In the midst of the seriousness that is normally domesticat.net, I present a thoroughly silly and amuzing pop quiz. Examine this photo carefully: the kitty in the laundry

Your question: based on the tail in the picture, please identify the name of the cat, and whether the laundry is dirty or clean.

A note for those of you who have written to me recently: I think my subconscious is starting to kick in. I deleted a swath of what I THOUGHT was unnecessary email from my comments @ domesticat.net folder, and as a result I managed to delete a few actual emails that need replies. If you don't hear from me, that's why.

Two down. Seventeen to go. (You know, I'm going to look really stupid if it turns out I have to write more than seventeen pages for this admin interface, what with my decision to do a public countdown and all. Virtually guarantees I'm going to fall flat on my face.)

I'm still flush from my victory dance, having checked off the "edit your options" page not ten minutes ago. The way I have permissions set up virtually dictates that I have three separate pages devoted to the editing of authors. One is for the normal user, who does not have permission to edit all authors. The "edit your options" page contains rather innocuous bits for updating, including things like homepages and IM accounts and passwords and password-retrieval bits. The other two are for the power user—a person who has the power to edit the accounts of others. First, they'll have to be presented with a list of all authors, and then they'll have to be able to select a single author to edit.That secondary editing page will be a lot like the page I wrote today, except it will contain toggles for permissions.

Ah, but that's for later.

See, what you don't realize is that you should be impressed that I actually managed to get anything done at all. Why, you ask?

Hello, and welcome to the fifteenth edition of My Kitties Are Cuter Than Yours! I'm domesticat, and I'll be your host tonight. In this edition of the show we'll explore the general silliness that abounds when two thoroughly spoiled rotten felines (total combined weight: 29 pounds) have to be sedated in time for their yearly vet visit.

Common side effects of feline sedation:

• inability to jump from the floor to the couch
• inability to walk without falling over
• crossed eyes
• extreme lethargy
• complete limpness when picked up by favorite human
• inability to lie down gracefully ("thump!" was heard a lot)
• inability to meow properly ("meh?" and "sque….." were heard a lot)

Exhibit A: Before Sedation

She reached behind me and weighed matters with a quick twist of her arm. "Are you absolutely sure about this? That's pretty drastic…" The feel of the weight coming off my shoulders was dizzying, powerful. Up until that point I had never considered it to be a burden; it was something to be tucked up and away with elastic bands or caps, or carefully restrained with a bow.

I was seventeen, and absolutely certain. "Cut it.""But it's…beautiful. You're absolutely certain you want me to do this? It will take you years to grow this back."

As she spoke, I took my glasses off and tucked them under the plastic robelike drape they make you wear (to protect your clothes from rogue hairs) while sitting in the cutting chairs. Without my glasses, I was blind—and had to trust. Trust felt sticky and warm, like the back of my neck, which was rapidly beginning to adhere to the nonporous plastic drape.

I've been promising these photos for quite some time, but a post such as this had to wait until I'd gotten both rolls of film developed. After Dad was diagnosed with cancer, I spent a week in Arkansas, staying with Mom and Dad. I made a point to catch up with some old friends while I was there—all of them old friends who see me rarely, now that I live four hundred miles away.

(A number which Eleanor always says with a glare.)

Sean's birthday; cat photos

Shortly before I left, we celebrated Sean's birthday at a local restaurant. All of the locals, minus Geof cleared their schedules to show up:

Sean's birthday party, 2002
by domesticat.