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.


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


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.


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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