Okay, so as I’ve mentioned, we’re in the process of moving. We left the house on the hill, moved in with Ken for a couple days, and now we’re in Christchurch for the night, on the eve of our Australian adventure. Things have been busy.
BUT PLENTY OF CATS.
So, because we are painfully frugal, a great portion of our moving including ancient Egyptian tactics and the brute strength of our favorite scrambler, Ken Noga. As we were talking through the city like this, we encountered some kitty frandz.
We’d only made it about 1/2 block away (THIS IS ACROSS THE STREET FROM MONEY CAT’S HOUSE!) before this gent showed interest in our maneuvers.
“What are you doing?” “Moving!” we replied with great cheer. “Ha.”
I think the guy was lonesome. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and was just sort of aimlessly standing in his garden in the middle of the day. I asked if I could take a picture of his cat, which I think made him happy. “His name is Muffin. I didn’t name him that. My ex-wife did. Who would name a boy cat Muffin??” He then mentioned some other things that I don’t really remember, laughed a bit, and then made sure to note that he was not smoking marijuana.
Next we came across this old friend– we’d met him a few months earlier on the way to a party. What a joy!
Kitties love to watch bros move. (I should at this point mention that though these bearded individuals were doing the brunt of the work, I looked totally homeless and flanneled and rainbow hatted with bags slung every which way.)
Later in the evening, resting our weary arms, we attended our friend Ollie’s going away party and saw THIS GUY bravely leaping around the pictured tree, jimmin’ and jammin’ from branch to branch.
What a day. So that should go to show– there are truly cats everywhere.