Blathr Wayne Lorentz

Takayesu may be big, but Annie is quick. Sheʼll run between your legs, and next thing you know — okuridashi.

Going to the deli makes me sad. It reminds me that I used to always bring home a slab of turkey as a special treat for Henri. He knew when I came through the door with grocery bags that it was special treat time, and heʼd hop up on the kitchen counter and dig through the bags looking for it. He was never a patient creature.

Rest in peace, little friend.

Guys, I gotta go. The cat just barfed on my computer plug.

The magic of work-from-home.

I donʼt always know when Tina is skulking around the garden, but Annie always knows.

New from Scholastic! Itʼs Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Hidden Cat!

Look for it in a bookmobile near you!

Itʼs O.K., Annie. I have a button to do that.

Halloween can be educational. In addition to teaching children about math (candy nutrition labels), geography (mapping out a trick-or-treat route), history (Halloween folklore), and extortion ("Trick or treat!"), it's also possible to learn about physics. The way to do that is with a Halloween bubble light.

I don't know why bubble lights went out of fashion, but showing a child that something that is boiling can still safe to touch is an opportunity to learn about the phases of matter, the elements, boiling points, and all kinds of happy physics and chemistry things.

Also, it's never too early to put up Halloween decorations — if they're educational.

Annie spends so much time sleeping in the closet that I decorated her front door for Halloween.

“Whadda ya mean there's no Facebook Messenger on this thing? I have to call my bookie to beat the spread!”

Annie tucks tighter than Thomas Daley in the men's 10 meter synchronized platform event.

I thought I was being all clever, using my phoneʼs camera flash to see what was making that noise in the dark.

It turns out, I donʼt want to know.

This is Snook, the shopcat at Louisiana Music Factory. Heʼs very affectionate when not sleeping in a sunny window, but doesnʼt respond when asked for advice on jazz records.

Sounds about right. If you canʼt trust graffiti, who can you trust?

Annie likes to pull the green peppers and black olives off of my pizza. But only if itʼs from Frankʼs Pizza. If itʼs any other pizza, she just eats the cheese.

My cat eats a lot of cheese.

Sometimes Annie watches Star Trek with me. Itʼs no surprise; all the ladies love Riker.

I really should stop this tomfoolery. But I also want to find out if sheʼs dumb enough to get her head stuck in a peanut can.

Annie has decided that Iʼve done enough work for today, and I should turn my attention to smaller, furrier needs.

Annie has found a safe location from which to observe the Grand Unpacking of All the Things.

Annie is half in the bag this morning.

Annie reflects on her day.

Annie relaxing at the Aloft Hotel in San Antonio.

Annie surveys our room at the Best Western Plus Hotel in Fort Stockton, Texas before settling down to sleep on top of the refrigerator.

“Dude, there's a Smokey on your tail. Floor it!”

After a busy day surveying the packing of all of our things, Annie snoozes high atop the pile of stuff in our living room.

She canʼt read, but Annie sure digs those Nancy Drew books.

The lease for my new apartment is very long, but I read the entire document anyway.

It turns out that I am not allowed to let my cat smoke a hookah in the freight elevator.

First thing on my to-do list once Iʼm settled: Buy a cat-sized hookah.

Iʼm tired. Annie is going to work for me today.

I wonder if a daisy smells the same to her as it does to me.

“If youʼd get me a computer of my own, I could finish your taxes a lot faster.”

“The boredom. I has it. Play with me.”

Annie is not impressed by my mad Pong skills.

“Does this sunlight make me look fat?”

“I see youʼre got enough toilet paper to last for the rest of the year. How about stocking up on kitty treats? The good stuff, none of this house-brand Safeway crap.”

Today Annie sat in the bathroom doorway and watched as I cleaned my toilet. So naturally, I felt obligated to clean the cat box next.

I think just got guilt-tripped by a cat.

Today I learned that Annie is in the market for a whole-home water treatment system. I guess I should clean her kitty bowls more often.

“Thank you for the box. Itʼs just what I wanted.”

Todayʼs coffee is Kitty Coffee from Populace Coffee in Bay City, Michigan. Of course, your coffee can be Doggie Coffee or whatever you want, since Populace will print whatever you want on the bag. Upload a photo, and add some text, and youʼre done.

The price is pretty reasonable, considering that itʼs a one-off printing. I think itʼs around $22, including shipping.

That said, even though the coffee is good, this is an operation to avoid. When I shop online, I use a different e-mail address with each merchant. Thatʼs how I know that Populace sold my e-mail address to spammers, and also sold my phone number to text message spammers trying to push coffee grinders on me. This is not how you win a repeat customer.

Sunday, interrupted.

About the only normal thing these days is the cat. She eats. She poops. She licks herself. All the normal things a cat should do. Sheʼs never been very bright, so she doesnʼt know anything is wrong. The last cat was very empathetic. He knew when something was wrong, and would comfort us. If he heard Darcie cry or yelp or swear, heʼd run to her side. Now she only has me. Itʼs not the same thing.

In the street this afternoon:

Darcie says things like this are why his family doesnʼt come to our door for trick-or-treat.

Happy cat, or dead bug? You decide.

I guess if I never take pictures of dogs, my phone has no reference point to work from.

Perhaps it thinks “Dog = ugly cat.”

Cleaning the litter box is a lot more festive this time of year, what with all the butt nuggets threaded together with tinsel missing from the tree like the worst Christmas train ever.

Whenever I break out the wood grain wonder, Annie comes to join me.

She doesnʼt always set up camp in the cabinet, though.

What a cat with a tummy full of tinsel looks like.

Itʼs just not Christmas until the first cat barfs up a ball of tinsel.

While I appreciate Henri trying to help me fix the Atari, it would probably go faster if he wasnʼt sitting on the multimeter.

All it takes is one good sunbeam, and my living room looks like a scene from every Agatha Christie novel.

Except, with cats.

Santa dropped off a present for the Annie and Henri today. Hopefully they donʼt figure out what it is.

I hurt my back this morning, so when I got home all I wanted to do is sit in the bed, watch TV, and eat a pizza. Now I have a furry little nurse to make sure Iʼm OK.

Henri canʼt decide if Iʼm decorating for Christmas, or filming a Police music video.

Watching the dog show on TV was really inspirational. I think my animals may have a chance.

Annie, for example, is a shoo-in for “Best in Slow.”

I havenʼt had Thanksgiving with relatives in 24 years. But I still have a family member who gorges himself on turkey and passes out in front of the TV.

I think this is the cat equivalent of a dog drinking all of the water from a Christmas tree stand.

A lolcat must be driving.

Does anyone know of a good way to control feline flatulence?

Asking for Mr. Fuzzynuts over there.

I can understand Siri not knowing the word “smurgle.” But she doesnʼt know “Munchos?” Do nerds not eat junk food anymore?

This is not a still frame from a video of Annie rolling over. This is just how she lays on the floor these days.

She really is the strangest thing on four paws.

“Happy Halloween!”

It really is a miracle that I get anything done at all.

I have a California King bed, six pillows, and four inches of memory foam and I will never sleep as soundly as this cat on the fake wood floor.

The catʼs frolicking in my dirty socks. I guess laundry will just have to wait until tomorrow.

What Saturday is like, if youʼre a cat.

Also Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, September, November, and years with numbers in them.

This is a way better anniversary present than what I got Darcie. Oh, well. Better luck next year, Sweetie.

If you watch the video, wait till the very end to see the cat burp.

Not exactly His Masterʼs Voice, but close enough.

One of these cats is an inanimate object. The other is a brass statue.

I should probably clean out my bathroom cabinet. Itʼs starting to attract vermin.

Henri isnʼt actually sleeping. He just wants me to stop reading the paper and cater to whatever his kitty desire of the moment is.

He probably just reset all of my passwords to Garfield quotes again.

“Monorail Cat has reached the terminal station. All change for Roomba service to Tunaville, Darcieʼs Snugglebus to Leaky Sink Central, and Express Sprint service to Litter Box Town.”

I donʼt know if this is a tiny intervention, or if she wants one, too.

Annie is cute. Not smart. Just cute.

Itʼs not resting bitch face. Thatʼs actual bitch face. Happy birthday, Annie!

He weighs like 15 pounds now. The little Barbie table inside never stood a chance.

Henri looking to the sky wondering what the hell is going on. Itʼs been 174 days since it last rained in our neighborhood, and the kitties have forgotten what rain is.

Today I left the house because the cat was being an asshole.

It may be time to re-evaluate how I rank around here.

Sunlight. Moonlight. Whatever warms your belly.

There should be a word for when youʼre taking a leak, and the cat walks between you and the toilet with his tail raised high, and you end up peeing on your own cat.

I mean other than “Eeeeew.”

There are so many reasons my wife puts my text messages on mute while sheʼs at work.