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It would appear that today is a day to post about kittens. Or something.

At least now I know why Buddug's been wandering around the house mewling and complaining all day. We never play kitten kerplunk with her. Hell, we don't even have a tree. I can't stand Christmas decorations (bah, humbug).

So today she decided she'd help me with my writing.

All the world's a critic

There I was, minding my own business, cutting swathes of useless introspection and dull descriptive passages from Running Away, and she comes in and lies down on it all.

Earlier in the day, Paperback Writer alerted me to Lee Goldberg's request for people to post pictures of where they write, but I wasn't going to post a picture of my office, because I've done it before. Buddug, however, had other ideas and forced me to get the camera out by trying to look sweet.

It's all just kitty-litter, you know

Fortunately I had my trusty dachshund to hand, guarding my back and keeping the evil monsters at bay. Or maybe just snoozing.

I've still not got a new chair

This is why I am so unproductive. I sit at my computer in the morning, full of good intentions and porridge, and one by one the various beasts come along, plonk themselves down beside me (or on the desk, or my lap) and just sit there, willing me to get up and take them for a walk*. No wonder it's taken so long to get Benfro book two away.

And now back to the spaceships.

*yup, Buddug likes to come for walks too. I tried to lead-train her (leash, if you're from across the pond), but she'd have none of that. Now she likes to scurry around in the bushes and leap out at the dogs when they're least expecting it.