…Makin’ the Same Thing For Fifteen Years….

I'm putting peanut butter on bread, singing, "Makin' the same thing for fifteen years...." The Fluffy One pokes his head over the counter and asks, "What is it you have? Please, give some to me!" He looks adorable as he pats the peanut butter on the knife and asks, "The butter of peanuts? Is it like the brother's favorite creamy cheese?" He decides, "I don't want it! You can give it to the dog." The Puppy says, "But it's got cat germs." "It is fine!" The Fluffy One replies. I stand there watching them, licking the peanut butter off the knife.

If you had told me I’d still be making this comic fifteen years later, that I’d even still be alive to make this comic, that I would get way better than when I started…I’d have been weirded out that you knew where to find my comic. I mean, it’s not like the cool kids of webcomics embraced me or anything.

So it’s peanut butter time again, and I think we’ll keep doing this thing. Still have some stories to tell.

I guess this is as good a time as any to ask what kind of merchandise you’d want to see from me? What would you want to see on a shirt? Would I sell more than three copies of a book of these comics? Now’s your chance to talk to me, in case you didn’t realize you could all along. You have until June 1st.

Two-Star Reviews

The Puppy approaches The Fluffy One. "Oh hey, how are you?" she asks. The Fluffy One is in loaf form on the grass. "Meh, I have ceased the eating of food," he tells her. She lays down near him and says, "Ya, I don't wanna eat either. Food just isn't the same without bro licking it. You should go to my doctor!" The Fluffy One replies, "My bro did that, it did not work." The Puppy says, "No, I mean the one who cares about animals, not the one who told me I'm gonna die 'cause I'm big." The Fluffy One digs his claws into the ground and says, "This is not helping!"

Oh, could I tell you some stories, but they would make you mad, and that’s not what this place is for.

You would think there’d be more vets in the Bronx, NY, though. There’s only one with a two-star Yelp review and one with a three-star Yelp review nearby. All the others are more than an hour’s drive away. There are a few empty professional buildings with parking all along the road from my house to the nearest Rite-Aid. If this were a Sims game, I’d put some damn 5-star vets up in those buildings.

The Bright Side

The Slinky One continues his message. "Okay, I'll see you when I see you. You're all gonna die and I'll have slept on all the good stuff first." Four hours, twenty-four minutes, and three seconds into his video, he announces that he's now gonna sing some songs. In the third panel, we're all watching The Slinky One on the computer, singing Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life.

I have to admit one month later, I can’t find the bright side of losing my Slinky Son, but I started this year listening to Eric Idle’s audiobook Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life: A Sortabiography. I credit the Pythons for keeping me alive until black cats came into my life, and for the first week of 2019, one spent some time in my ears on those cold mornings when I was horribly aware of what was coming. Did I do my Slinky son justice? Only here in the comic. Would this be what he’d do? Obviously I think this is what he’d do. He was always singing, and sang this more than once over the years. Hell, I want this song played at my funeral.

Coping Tools.

I stand next to the portrait of The Slinky One, holding his favorite toy. I explain that it's called a Kitty Can't Cope Sack and that he said he took away all his woes. The Puppy says, "Oh yeah, I remember that thing! It doesn't do anything for me." the butterflies say, "Nip is good!" The Fluffy One says, "It is only magical for the cats." In the third panel, I take a lick of the catnip toy.

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.