Sticking Around

I'm wearing a dark hoodie and holding a stick that could totally be a double-bladed lightsaber. The Fluffy One is playing with the stick, Babycat is pawing at it, and The Kitten is flipped over in the air, grabbing at the stick. "This stick belongs to me now, uncle!" The Kitten declares. "My boy!" Babycat says. The Fluffy One says, "You stop being dangerous and get down here! Stick cannot be played with you walking around in the sky!" The Puppy just stands there asking, "They fly now?" The spirit of The Slinky One hovers nearby, telling The Kitten, "You get that thing, little baby! Then give my bro a hug and chase his juicy butt!"

The Fluffy One’s always been a fan of sticks. Other cats can have the ribbons and feathers and squeaky chirpy things, he knows where the action’s at. This week his sweet nephew discovered the magic of sticks and was hooked. I said, “What have I done?” a few times as I searched for a place to hide the stick, which wasn’t easy on account of all the laughing.

New Star Wars this weekend! I’ve lived through the LAST STAR WARS EVER three times now, first in 1983 and then in 2005, and I’m looking forward to enjoying this one. I find it’s easy to enjoy Star Wars when I avoid people talking about Star Wars, and I had the time to make this comic because I’m off most social media until I see the movie. I guess you could say the only sticking around I’m doing will be with actual sticks. Oh ho ho.

What Have We Here?

I am dressed like Darth Vader. "Cats, I am your mothaaaaar," I say. The Puppy, dressed like Chewbacca, says, "WRRRRAAAGH." "Darth Vader, only you could be so bold," Babycat says. She has been dressed like Princess Leia, buns and all. "Help me, Obi-Cat Kenobi, you've my only hope!" The Slinky One, hovering nearby and dressed in Jedi robes, says, "Okay, you don't want to dress up your cats, you wanna go home and rethink your life." The Kitten tries to pull off his Han Solo costume, saying, "Mom, I got a bad feeling about this." Sauntering out in a Lando Calrissian cape, The Fluffy One asks, "Well, well, what have we here?"

Here I was posting the Star Wars-themed one on Carrie Fisher’s birthday and I hear there’s a new trailer for Episode IX I gotta see. How about that.

We have to wait for December for the new movie, but you only have to wait ten more days to see what costumes the gang will actually be wearing (hint: enjoy this drawing because the real thing is going to be way blurrier and I don’t think we’ve got everyone on board yet).

May the Porgs be with you. And with your Wookiee.

Ahch-To caretakers are doing it for themselves.

What just happened? Is it all a dream from having a Puppy dropped on me? Or is it an exclusive sneak peek into The Last Jedi?

Let me give you some backstory. This picture was included with Entertainment Weekly’s preview of Star Wars: The Last Jedi:

Ahch-To caretakers from The Last Jedi.

(Image from

I hurried to alert my bestie @glitzob that there were characters relevant to our interests, hers being an in-progress Star Wars/Dinosaurs crossover fanfiction, mine being everything she writes. She declared it a selfie of the two of us, and I have to agree.

This Friday, I hope you all enjoy our flick. Some other things might go on, but I’ll be watching for Missus Horticulture and Missus Horchata.

She’ll always be royalty to me.

As if millions of voices suddenly cried out.

“No matter how I go, I want it reported that I drowned in moonlight, strangled by my own bra.”  — Carrie Fisher

I suppose you want to hear the mall story. You don’t drop a line into a comic like that without some backstory. It’s actually two tales; first I took a wrong turn in the Galleria and totally misplaced my family. Clutching Leia, I walked all over that damn mall until I found them. But who hasn’t done that?

I was the kind of kid who was convinced I’d be taken away if anyone knew what I was really like. At the time, I had no idea what Carrie Fisher herself was going through. But pretending Imperials were storming places and we had to get away helped. Strange how that works. I carried Leia around for strength. We had epic talks. Mostly about where the hell Han was.

We were sitting on the edge of a bedding display at Sears one day when a bored kid came over and hit me in the back, perhaps prophetically, with a Disney record. He took Leia and stripped off her clothes while I stood there and twitched a lot.

I was not the type of kid who would fight someone, I was the type of kid who would go home and cry. But that day I stood there and, shaking, asked, “Can I have her back?”

He threw the doll at my face. She bounced off my chin, but I got her back, dammit. And the civilian clothes I dressed her in, too. She preferred the clothes I’d put on her. I even almost tamed the hair. But the hair cannot be tamed, as we’ve all learned.

We had a lot of adventures.  My first dog tipped a couch over on me to get to my Princess Leia doll. It is heartbreaking that Carrie Fisher left her dog Gary here on Earth with us, her family, her friends, and her fans, but I hope if she needs a dog to hug, she finds the shaggy blonde one tipping couches to get to her. He loves hugs. I also hope Gary gets that bacon-covered bone he wanted.

I drew this yesterday, listening to The Princess Diarist as read by the author. Carrie Fisher got me through so much in life, and the glitter she left behind will get us through this.

Love you forever, Carrie Fisher.