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TC's Photo Album: Page 2

by TC, the production assistant

This is me, clever cat that I am, sitting in one of my favorite places among the books on the shelf. My roommates think I'm cute when I sit here so I do it to amuse them. They are easily amused.

I just love to read.

Before I got this gig as the production assistant, I was for a time living on my own with my kittens. We were dumpster cats. That's where I developed my taste for exotic foods, like cantaloupe rinds.

I spend lots of time with the editor trying to figure out what to publish next, as well as other very important business issues -- like, for example: what kind of snack we should eat, if it's time to take a break yet, and does this picture make me look too fat. The editor has found out some very interesting things about me. For snacks, I really like Oreo cookies and tooth paste. Well not at the same time.

Here's a photo of the editor, my roommate. She's visiting a friend and holding a strange cat. She must be very brave. That looks like an awfully big cat to me. I f I was there, I'd be hiding under the bed, hissing like mad with my fur standing on end. That usually scares off everybody.

Here's a photo of the editor with one of my enemies.

When I first came to live with the editor, there was another cat living here. They called her Trouble. She loved to sleep in baskets and sit in the windows. Well, I can admire that in a cat. Windows are fun.

This is Trouble.

Do I need to say this: we weren't friends. She was -- how can I say this politely -- OLD! Yes, she was very old, and cranky. I stayed out of her way, which wasn't all that hard because she didn't do very much. And then she died. NOT GUILTY. No kidding. I didn't do it. Trouble just croaked. Poor old thing.

Trouble, the Norwegian Forest Cat.

Trouble on her favorite basket.

The editor gets all misty-eyed when she looks at this old photos of Trouble. Pul-eeze! That cat just slept, ate, and hacked up humongous fur balls. Who needs her when you've got me.

You've just got to see these pictures. This is an old cat they call Sneaker. I've seen this one a few times and believe me she's no picnic either. She's carved out new territory into the cat-longevity statistics. I've never seen an older, skinnier, dimmer bulb than Sneaker, who is absolutely adored by everybody. There's just no understanding these people I live with.

Sneaker Rosenberg, trying to look cute

Here's a recent photo I want you to see. They shaved Sneaker. Yup! Groomers do things like that. (Note to self: never go to the groomer!) Sneaker's so dumb that she actually didn't mind. Her tail is the best part. There's a little tuft of fur left on it. I've never seen such a weird looking cat. Sneaker looked like the Lion King, sort of. Her fur is growing back now, rats!

I'm usually a big help to the editor. I love to jump onto her desk when she's busy at her computer. There's a mouse on her desk. I like that too.

This is one of my favorite photos. Some of our staff meetings run a little long, and they can get sort of boring. I tend to nod off now and then, but hey, that's what cats do, you know.

TC at a staff meeting