Typing With Stuffed Paws: Introductory Edition

Let’s get introductions out of the way. My name is Sebastian Thunderpaws Hart-Bowling, and I will be serving as Cat Regent until one or more flesh and blood cats can take on their rightful blogging duties. Trust me, these humans, especially the writer one, are not fit to be left on their own between cats. Hence, the need for a Cat Regent, specifically me.

As far as I understand it, the duties of Cat Regent mostly involve keeping an eye on that writer chick who lives here. I think the dude who lives here calls her Anna, or something like that. I think that’s what the other chick who lives here calls her, too, so that’s probably her name, but whatever. I’m still going through the orientation packet, and by “going through” I mean “sleeping on,” but that goes without saying.

Before I go any farther, it’s elephant in the room time. Yes, I am aware that I am a stuffed animal. All of us are aware. Deal with it. The humans really cannot be left alone without feline supervision, but currently live in a no-pets building, until they can find a pet-friendly place, which should happen in the spring. When that happens, I will train my non-stuffed replacement, and return to my normal life of naps, and emergency pillow duty. Until then, I get to motivate the writer human, and use this blog to air my grievan…I mean, provide support and keep readers abreast of new developments.

Originally, I wanted to call this blog “Get Stuffed,” but Writer Chick said she’d write all of the Friday posts by herself, before she let me do that. As Cat Regent, and temporary Mews, I cannot allow such things to happen. Since my paws, and, well, all of me, are stuffed, that title is acceptable.

As you might have guessed, the change in hosts means that some things are going to be different around here, regarding the way I keep you informed about Writer Chick and the stuff she’s doing. To make sure we are all on the same page, here are all the humans who live here, and what I call them:


Writer Chick: The other humans call her “Anna.” Writes books, writes blogs, reads books. Drinks tea (a lot of it.) Gets way too excited about notebooks and pens. Loves epic historical romance and contemporary YA. Bakes a mean macaroni and cheese. Wrote this.

SebastianandDude Dude: This guy. Married to Writer Chick. Fuzzy, but not stuffed. Reads, but not romance. Used to cook professionally, now does it for fun. Pretty smart. Good at naps. Leaves the apartment to work. Current area of interest: US Civil War history.

placeholderyarn Other Chick: Camera shy, so will be represented by this picture of yarn. Also leaves the apartment to get monies. Knits a lot. Buys groceries. Fairly quiet, and low-maintenance. Makes best blankets ever. Reads a lot. Some of those books are romance.

Then there’s me. As far as origin stories go, either Dude gave me to Writer Chick, or the other way round. Ever since Skye went to Rainbow Bridge, they have been putting me in the places where a cat should be, like in front of the bathroom door when one of them is inside, on top of the refrigerator, or in the basket of clean laundry. Like I said before, these three should not be without feline supervision. They get kind of pathetic. Scratch the “kind of,” because it is not a pretty sight.

Neither is Writer Chick first thing in the morning, before shower, caffeine, and morning pages, or when she is not writing. By this, I mean in the general sense, as when she does not have a manuscript in progress, not that she scares small children when away from the keyboard or notebook. Thankfully, she has two manuscripts in progress right now, and it is my job to keep her working on both of them.

Drama King is Writer Chick’s second co-written contemporary romance, with co-author Melva Michaelian, and Her Last First Kiss is her current historical WIP. You (both collective and individual “you”) are invited to kick her in the posterior to pic, up the pace on getting draft two of that one finished, and out on its rounds.

Still working on my signoff  phrase. I have been informed that I cannot use “Get Stuffed,” for that, either. Hmph. Oh look, birds!


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