Sunday Morning with My Cats (A Glimpse of the Future)

Croissants and chicory coffee. Now that’s a true French breakfast. My tummy tells me, “Thank you kind master, I am perfectly content yet again.” (We had a mushroom and cheese crepe last night). It’s currently pouring buckets outside which is a nice change of pace to the perfect high 70’s, sunny weather we’ve had for the past three weeks #southoffrance

What does happy, full Wendy do on a rainy, lazy Sunday morning? Fawn over the adorableness of cats and change career goals to professional cat photographer.

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Black kitty is named Saphir (“Sapphire”). She is eighteen years old and more loungey than Bouteille (“Bottle”, l’autre chat).

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This is Bouteille, who as you can see, moved to about ten different places while I tried to capture his picture. Saphir is still resting in her puddle as I type this. Also introducing my lovely roommate and fellow cat enthusiast.

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Bouteille likes to make noises that sound like a human baby. See, you don’t need children. Just need a good fuzzy cat.

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