Hemingway, LLC

Stone Cold

Because this doesn’t happen every day (yet!). Last night, Hemingway stole my tiara.

It’s plastic, and on my desk, and I was typing and all of a sudden he leaps up and grabs it with his teeth and runs away with it while I’m saying, "Give me back my tiara!"

Yes, this really happened.

See also: Previous picture of cat being coerced into attacking tiara. There was no coercion this time. He just took it.

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Cat vs. Tiara

It’s Friday, I’m lame, incredibly busy, feeling a bit ick around the edges, etc. So.

One Oscar night redux photo.

And one of Hemingway guarding the second batch of Fountain Award stories (which I promise, Ms. Meisner, I’ve since opened and begun reading).

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First Ever…


Cat Blogging Friday. Neither of us could get Hemingway to sit for a new photo, so here’s one I took the other night showcased on C‘s desktop. Coming soon: a photo of Hem and George. (This morning, George wakes up, drags himself to his feet, looks around. Hemingway traipses over to him and starts doing that little hoppy thing cats do in order to rub the side of their faces against something TO GEORGE. George was nonplussed.)

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Not Even Friday

So, what does a polydactyl named Hemingway get up to on his first full day all alone in the house? Archeology, of course.

DustyfloorWe didn’t even notice right away that he’d managed to unboard up the fireplace in the office and do some excavation. When we did, we cracked up, unable to even pretend at madness. I took this shot after Christopher righted the bourbon ad (originating from the Raleigh contingent) and put the board sort of back in place. I think you can still see the evidence.
There’s some more trace evidence on the backsides of his thunderpaws, but you can’t see that in this photo because he doesn’t like to be still for photos. That Hemingway, he’s a cat in motion.

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