Do kill, Mr. Sweaty.

It’s a lovely Caturday morning over here at Sweet Tater Central. I’ve been organizing the kitchen (my sauces are now in alphabetical order) and watching these idiots chase each other around:

Who idiot?

Yer zeh idiot.

Here’s a delightful cat fact: In the absurd voice/language I have created for Ralph and Weaz, they refer to Stew as Mr. Sweaty BECAUSE… I was trying to text him one time (from the cats, obviously) and my auto-correct changed Mr. Stewart to Mr. Sweaty. Other characters: I am The Girl. My sister is The Little Girl. My mom is The Lady. My dad is That Man. And my brother is That Boy. Truth.

Now let’s play a game… Where’s Weasel?

Hmmm...

OH ok. Here.

I’ve heard that lots of cats like shoes, but Ralphie, like, loves shoes.

Ohmygawd SHOOOOOOOZ

As a black cat, Ralphie is particularly thrilled for the Halloween season…

Why's it gotta be about black?

I dressed up as Ralph AND as Weaz last year. It’ll be hard to top that this year, but I’m thinking about being Jessica because “I can do anything good.” Don’t EVEN steal my idea.

I think I'll be Jessica because I can do anything better.

I can leap through the air and break this picture good.

Thanks, cats.