I’m a writer, so I have cats. There is an unwritten rule about that somewhere, right?

Currently, we have three cats-in-residence, which is an average number for us, though we’ve had as many as six at one time. This is the current feline supervisory crew, hanging out with me as I work. I have two cardboard boxes on the desk for the cats to file themselves into. Notice how there are two large cats in one box, and none in the other one.

Cats…

Merry, the black cat and her brother Pippin the orange, are the young whippersnappers. Nayru, the white cat, is pushing 14 this year, a tolerant old uncle who watches the shenanigans going on around him.

For a couple of weeks, Pip was also known as ‘Fox in Sock’. He cut his back paw so the vet suggested he wear a cone. Trouble is that (1) he shares a single brain cell with all the other orange cats in the state, so he’s not the brightest cat we’ve had (2) he’s clumsy (3)our rescue dog has anxiety and a cone would probably terrify her.

So I pulled out the vet wrap, which I’ve kept on hand to bandage teenage sons, and the nonstick gauze. Hubs wrangled Pip, who handled it reasonably well, for a cat, and I bandaged his foot to keep him from constantly licking the wound open. I didn’t know what to expect, but who would have guessed? Pip walked a little funny, shaking his foot with every step, but tolerated his new sock until his foot healed.

Never a boring day around here. Nope, not at all.

And of course Nayru was supervising the whole effort from his favorite chair with an art pillow that must have been inspired by him.

Or at least that’s what he wants us to believe.

And to round out the day, here’s a shot of the entire supervisory crew, Mocha the rescue Plot Hound (Yes, that’s really a breed….) included. Guess who thinks she’s in charge of the show? The cats haven’t had the heart to tell her otherwise, yet.