Kittens are helping me write

They really do, y’know.  When I’m staring at the screen of my iBook, my mind either blank or cluttered up with the detrious of a day at work, they get on my lap and slowly crawl onto the                   yhrfp;;;;y

…and they write for me.  I figure yhrfp;;;;;y is fraught with meaning in Kittenese.  And then there’s Foster, my sumo wrestler kitty, my Staypuff Marshmallow boy.  He’s sitting on my right arm and staring at me with slightly crossed blue eyes, ears slightly back as if to ask, ‘What are you trying to accomplish?  I not understand why you are not petting me.’  Foster, btw, sounds like Fat Tony from THE SIMPSONS.

Sigh.  I need to set up some boundaries here…