Monette has decided it's time to find a career for himself. He's become a massage therapist. What this means for me is, when I'm laying on my bed and he wants to see what I'm doing, he walks up my back, often pausing for a moment to sit on my lower back, before jumping onto my book or whatever is getting attention instead of him.

Yesterday, he decided I needed a "back massage" after playing in his water fountain. The combination of freezing wet paws and being extremely ticklish was quite the experience. Of course, being the supportive parent I am, I suffer in relative silence, trying to keep my twitchs and laughter to a minimum to not scare him away. There's no need to say I'm pussy whipped; it is evident.