I have now reached that state where, even though I am tired, I know I will not sleep. I will drift aimlessly through the rest of the day, listening to Bob whine because A) I am not Keem and B) he wants to frolic in the hallway and I won’t let him.

Eddy is lying on Keem’s bed. Each day, before we leave for work, Keem makes her bed (I don’t understand this concept but hey, whatever floats your boat, right?) and every night, when we get back home, there are random amounts of cat toys on the bed. Sometimes they are in a row. There isn’t any rhyme or reason to the cat toys, other than his favorite one seems to be the long white ferrety looking thing and the pink mouse with the exceptionally long tail. Sometimes, while we are watching TV, you will hear him calling to her from the bedroom. This pathetic yowling that somehow is supposed to encourage her to drop everything and rush to his side and attend to his urgent petting needs.

He’s watching me now, as I type this. He has that inscrutable cat look on his face, that look that says “I may look like I’m falling asleep but I know you are talking about me and how dare you sit at that computer because you are not Keem and I love Keem and I tolerate you even though I am supposed to technically be your cat and you can’t do anything as well as Keem does.” Do you know why he loves her more than me? Because she gives him wet cat food. Yep. That’s it. Wet cat food is how you win my cat’s heart. Now, of course, when he throws it up, you would think that she would be the one that cleans it up, right? And I respond with NO! Well, actually she does more often than I but that’s not the point.

The point is that the cats like Keem better than me and that is not fair.