Should I have the second panel tattooed on me in some way?
Hey, he wrote it, on our walks.
The Kitty Can’t Cope Sacks had to have some high-grade magical nip in them, he would lick them all night, sometimes while lying on my head. The sound of his spiky tongue dragging on the nip was the best way to go to sleep. If I had a white noise machine, I’d put the recording I have of his late-night SCRAPE SCRAPE SCRAPE in there and be happy forever.
The Fluffy One is dealing with things.
We all know Puppies want a walkies with no cats jumping out at them from under cars, I mean, really.
I just want you all to know Richard Harris was singing MacArthur Park on the radio as I scheduled this comic and I’m not trying to bring you all down with my silly comic, but I haven’t seen my blue-eyed Siberian tiger man since May 7. Except I did see him in a dream, and he looked young and bright-eyed and I hope wherever he is, he’s lounging in the sun.
If you see a butterfly today, say hello for us.
When I was little I thought moths were old butterflies. Now I know moths are butterflies of the night.