This is Ferris, my carry-on.

As of two minutes ago, I am able to say that I leave for Australia tomorrow. The passport has been located, the luggage has been packed, the apartment is (mostly) clean, and I think I'm ready to go.
Originally, I was going to fly alone but there's been a change of plan.Ferris will be coming with me after all. I tried to keep him out of the luggage, I really did. He'd hop in, I'd scoop him out, he'd hop in again, I'd scoop, he'd hop... It was ridiculous and there was really no way to keep him out, short of locking him in the bathroom so I developed a system - every time I needed to put something in the case, I'd lift him up with one hand, set the item down with the other, and set him on top of the newly packed item. There was no other way. He was going to hang out in that case if it killed him. After all, there might be ninjas in Australia! Who else is going to protect me? Who else really understands how sneaky those dastardly ninjas are?


Look at that. A face like that will let you get away with anything. Knock over the water glass? It's okay. He's cute. Tear the shower curtain? Aw, so sweet! (He thinks it's coming between us. ) Rip my arm to shreds? No problem. He's just practicing his ninja killing moves.

Thanks to the tireless efforts of my adorably vicious kitten, this apartment is a ninja-free zone and soon, if everything goes according to his tiny-brained plan, Australia will be, too.