It really must be difficult to be a cat, you know. Every little thing that the humans do just upsets your perfect little feline world. Case in point: Edmund. This cat wakes up in an entirely new world every ten minutes or so, yet the silly feline has a royal conniption when I change something that he cares about.

Today's example: the print hanging behind my desk. My Christmas present from Geof was a copy of the photo that Noah shot for me. (For those of you who aren't familiar, that photo forms the basis for my skin 'twenty-one.') It took a while for Geof to get the photo to me, and a bit longer for me to get it to the framer's that I trust, and even longer to pick the print up, since Dad passed away in the interim.

I hung the photo and Jeff, who was sitting at his computer on the opposite side of the room, turned around and said, "Edmund doesn't seem to have noticed it yet."

"Give him a minute. He will."

Three minutes later, he noticed.

Since then, he has stood on his hind legs, sniffed the new print thoroughly, rubbed his face on the corners, and nibbled at the frame a time or two for good measure. He's decided that it's not going to eat him, so he's settled in for a satisfying little nap on top of my computer desk while I write out this entry. In a couple of weeks, he'll think that print has always belonged there.

Wait until I tell him that I want to paint the master bedroom…