Dear Sullivan, 1

Like many of you yesterday, I saw that the blog would not be happening this weekend. This could not stand. Without the the hits, we don't get the money. Without the money , I don't get the fish. I need the fish. To solve this problem, I have stepped in — on my day off, mind you — to ensure the hits keep rolling. Matt would put a post to an actual hit here, so to keep the mill-you the same, I have done so. Matt uses big words; I do not. I think that makes me smarter: Do more with less. Your questions are "below the fold," which I think means you click MORE. Go ahead and click MORE.

THE FOLD  THE FOLD THE FOLD THE FOLD

... I don't get the point of what he does there. Either way, I have noticed a backlog of QUESTIONS. QUESTIONS get ANSWERS. I learned this during my time as an office cat. People would ask me questions. Then, I would stare at them. Then, they'd get mad and say "Stupid cat, why don't you give me an answer?" Then, I would say, well, nothing. Because I am a stuffed cat. I can't talk. Do you know how hard it is to type with these soft, stuffed paws?

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Dear Sullivan,

I am 34 years old, and I work at a dull office job that, frankly, a trained monkey could do. I've been finding myself drinking more and more, and not even socially. I'm still able to get to work on time and do a full day's work, but as soon as I clock out, I get the need for a drink. I still make my obligations, but I have started having things said to me. I think I have it under control; what should I do?

Well, first of all, we shouldn't insult trained monkeys. The little hats they wear are adorable. If they want to move up in the world to the white-collar world of office politics, who am I to judge? I happen to like office work. The shredder is my favorite because you can swat at the paper bits as it spits them out. As for your problem, I've seen it all before. First, a little of the nip to help you get through the time the humans are home. Then you find yourself needing a little nip when the local ferals come around during the day to help block them out from your mind. Soon, your life is a stupor between nips. What's worse is that the humans actually promote this social evil among the feline population. At 34, you've deserved a little indulgence, don't get me wrong. But ask yourself: "When I was a kitten, is this how I saw my twilight years?" Is the nip how you managed to live so long beyond your friends and family? Maybe that's the problem? You've gone nearly a decade without any familiar faces; that can be DEPRESSING. Go have a nice lie down in a sunbeam and think over your nice, long life and decide if you want it to end in a nip-fueled haze, or if you want it to be with the bright, agile mind that first found out about the human's weird Winter Tree Festival and Box and Shiny Paper Day.

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Dear Sullivan,

I work at a busy job, so I don't get the chance to meet a lot of new people. Recently, I've started taking my lunches with a girl from accounting. I think that there is some real chemistry there, but I can't know for sure. We're in different departments, so there's no rule against our dating, but I don't want to cause office strife. What should I do?

Just because you're eating with someone doesn't mean they like you. I used to be on a shelf with dozens of other stuffed cats, some of them practically my identical twin! I hated pretty much all of them, even the one that was misplaced from another shelf and so she was a little different (I still remember her green and brown mismatched eyes, watching me. FOREVER.) There's really only one way to let her know how you feel. Go out, today. Find the largest creature and slay it in single combat. Then, drag its still warm carcass to your lady love and drop it at her feet. In truth, I once slew a rabid doberman to prove my fidelity. Mrs. Sullivan the Cat still doesn't know why that girl didn't fall for me instantly, but I tell her: "Mom, you just can't understand modern women these days. It's not like when you were a kitten." Now, birds present an interesting challenge. While they are fragile, they are also nimble and can escape to the air. Birds make for an excellent present. Find a local bird bath and lie in wait for one to get a bit too wet to fly away, then strike. Your human might even be willing to help you practice your pouncing.

Oh, I think this means we should use the ROMANCE tag. Now I'm going to go find a sunbeam and have a lie down. What do you think about my advice? I think it is GOOD ADVICE. If that alley cat person could do it, I can do it.