Theorems of Kitteh Affection

After a long weekend of living in our closet to avoid close encounters with the houseguests, the kittehs were still wary on Monday as they patrolled about the house. As I sat in the loft writing, Sebastian cautiously crept up the stairs, every whisker at attention and ears pricked for any sound from enemy territory. Finally he was satisfied that I was the only inhabitant of the upstairs and came over to curl up with me in my chair, recovering some small portion of the cuddling losses incurred over the weekend while I was distracted with guests. 

A few moments later, I saw Belle's ears, eyes, and then nose gradually appear as she also ascended the stairs in Full Reconnaissance mode. She stalked the perimeter with wide eyes to see if any humans under the age of ten would suddenly come bursting out to love her against her will. After the all clear, she also made herself at home on whatever lap real estate not already monopolized by Sebastian. This is unusual--they very rarely share territory, so I must think that this is in response to the weekend of houseguests.

I've found that the interest rates on repayment of kitteh cuddling can be very steep, depending on various factors. No one really knows how they calculate how much you owe them, but I'm working out a theorem and am planning a round table discussion very soon. 

For the average weekend we are out of town, we have to include in our calculations not only lost hours of direct affection, but also lost hours of nearness (i.e. bedtime or watching television time). The rate of return on this affection loan of sorts is complicated by a factor of intensity (ranging from lower-intensity cuddling over a longer period under normal circumstances all the way to excessive neediness and obnoxious affection particularly prevalent when the human is trying to read a book or trying to type). 

There is also a positive correllation between the number of houseguests over a weekend and the intensity of expected  repayment following said weekend.  Furthermore, an exponent may be derived directly from the number of houseguests under the age of ten.

So far the equation is somewhat messy, so my theorem is best described visually:

Moby Dick: Standing the Test of Time

This book is one that has been on my list of important things to read for a very long time. I happened upon it recently at a second hand store and was compelled to shell out a dollar and see if I could wade my way through it. I've always had the impression that the book was near endless, and quite possibly as tedious as I found Oliver Twist to be so many years ago (I was a teenager when I tried to read Dickens, so I should probably give it another go before the final rap of the gavel). At any rate, I was prepared to be a literary martyr on the pyre of sesquipedalian verbosity, but would count it as a kind of medal of honor on my lapel if I could but finish it. So, you can understand my amazement when I laughed out loud with amusement and shook with suppressed chuckles throughout the first several chapters. What in the world! I would never have thought a man with the name Herman Melville could put on such a party as this.

But even Herman could not have anticipated his four-footed arch-nemesis who currently roams the halls of Whitlark Manor and who put an unceremonious end to the literary festivities. I was awakened in the middle of the night to the sounds of heaving. Moby Dick may very well stand the test of time, but it unfortunately could not stand the test of cat vomit at point blank range. And I, dear reader, could not stand the test of discolored pages unless I had no knowledge of where the discoloration came from and could convince myself that it was a perfectly legitimate discoloration as a result of someone's green highlighter gone haywire. As it was, I knew perfectly well the tinge of partially-digested houseplants, and therefore laid this amazingly absorbent volume to rest.

Staff Appreciation Day

In the Whitlark household, we take special care in our laundry duties. We find it very satisfying to take a heap of chaos and transform it into a tidy stack of something functional, which is why we use only the highest standards for those who make up our Laundry Support Team. Meet Sebastian and Belle, who take their work as senior staffers here very seriously. Here they are seen in a Laundry Protocol Meeting, which they diligently hold on an almost daily basis. It must be noted, however, that final protocols have yet been determined, despite a tremendous number of cat-hours spent on the project.


Both Sebastian and Belle have taken a proactive stance on laundry creation, citing the economic benefits of a frequently-laundering society through regular shedding. They therefore make a solid effort in hairing up any potentially launderable surfaces. Sebastian, who recently earned the title of "Chief Lolling Officer" works hard to accomplish this goal, as you may see here.

Another part of their tireless effort is to provide quality sheet cleanliness inspections for each bedding change. Belle is primarily in charge of this department, and may always be found in close proximity to clean sheets, offering her advice for future washings, working to stretch top sheets that she deems too-tightly tucked, and taking extra care to shed as much as possible during these tasks so as to speed the next laundry day and strengthen the economy.

Meanwhile, with intensive research spanning several years, Sebastian has developed his patented system for multiple-garment-ironing using an exciting new napping schedule.


First, clean, warm t-shirts are stacked neatly over the ironer and left for a napping period of about 20 minutes.


After this, the ironer relocates to the top of the stack and naps for approximately 30 minutes to complete the smoothing process. Voila!



Understandably, these modern heroes of laundry are exhausted after a full day of meetings, hairings, inspections, and ironing and may on occasion be found recovering in the conference room.

Kudos, Team Laundry!