Kitty Comforts

When Krackle and I were roommates, she had these blankets. I don't know how to explain them. They were torn apart and threadbare and amazing. She called them kitty comforts. There were always two, one for her and one for me. We spent hours curled up under these blankets. The name came from the fact that cats always look comfortable, no matter how they are laying. And it certainly didn't matter how I laid, those blankets were comforting and soft and amazing. I miss them so.

When we first got NCH, I finally saw what she meant. He always looks comfortable. Then the anti-anxiety medication started and he slept in some WEIRD ASS POSITIONS. None of them looked very comfortable to me.

 I do believe that this is a sign of a broken neck.

 Asleep on my toes. Not the side of my foot, or the top of my foot. The tips of my knobby, hard toes. Futurama does not amuse him at all.

 OK, this may be mildly comfortable, but is the toilet seat cover really necessary? Or the completely fucked up rug?

 Is he looking down? Nope. He is asleep. In a drawer. Bent over the edge of it.  

 This is only weird if you know my cat, who let me put this blanket on him. Moments later, he was building a laser gun in the corner.

 There is no way, no way that this is comfortable. I don't even understand how he decided to lay like this.

 When in doubt, hang yourself over the side of a chair. 

And the final, and best picture. Sitting straight up. On the stairs. Sound asleep. 

Now, I know that none of you read this site for gratuitous pictures of my stoned cat. But, dude, I could not stop laughing the entire time he was drugged up and it is wordless Wednesday right? Now is as good of a time as any to participate and then immediately break the number one rule. 

I am a rebel.