Ahh, another day, another cat treat. Banner is up and easing into his morning routine, stretching like he’s preparing for a big day at WMEO. Of course, he’s still waiting for the makeup lady to show up and fix his hair. Life as a WMEO anchor is tough, but someone has to do it.
Banner (opening): Good evening, viewers. Apparently tonight’s bulletin is about… me. I’ve been informed by the WMEO newsroom that today is Ginger Cat Appreciation Day, and as the resident orange correspondent, protocol requires that I acknowledge it with dignity and professionalism.
Balboa: Dignity? Banner, you’re an orange cat. You radiate sunshine, optimism, and the belief that every lap is reserved for you. This holiday was practically invented in your honor.
Banner: I do strive to bring calm, steady reporting to WMEO. Whether it’s wildlife rescues, neighborhood happenings, or keeping Balboa from turning every segment into a cooking show, I take my role seriously.
Balboa: He’s the backbone of this operation. The whiskered anchor. The ginger glow that keeps the newsroom warm. Also, he never steals my snacks, which is a quality I deeply admire.
Banner: Thank you, Balboa. I appreciate that… I think.
Today we celebrate:
From the first meow of the morning briefing to the final sign‑off at night, Banner brings steadiness to every broadcast.
Balboa: Here’s to Banner — the ginger legend, the calm in the newsroom storm, and the only cat who can make a breaking news alert sound like a bedtime story. Happy Ginger Cat Appreciation Day, buddy.
Banner: Thank you, Balboa. And thank you to our viewers for celebrating with us.
We Meow. You Listen.
2024 Rewind Banner’s Big Adventure. Since Balboa starred in this morning’s post, it felt right to give Banner his moment too Please enjoy this flashback from July 13, 2024
Everyone has Big Adventures. Remember Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure? And there’s Thomas the Tank Engine. There’s a whole series of books about those adventures. We mustn’t forget Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure . So why shouldn’t Banner have an adventure too?
Escape ArtistEveryone knows Banner is the World’s Greatest Escape Artist. Houdini had nothing on him. If the door is opened even a crack he’s out! Through your legs, through the door, Tail in the air he heads for Freedom. Then he makes friends with anyone standing in the hall. All my neighbors know him. He even met Bella, one of the neighborhood dogs. A big dog. That cured his escapes for about a month.
Anyway back to this BIG ADVENTURE.
I was working. I have a part time job as a Door Dasher. I try to put in a couple of hours every weekday. I save weekends for when the week has been slow and I need to make a little more. If I’ve met my self imposed quota for the week I get the weekend off. Anyway, I was “Dashing” and not at home when my longtime housekeeper came to save me from being overwhelmed by cat hair. Mainly Banner’s. With this over the top heat he’s been shedding like crazy even though I brush him everyday. She’s been helping me out for 4 years since I freely admit I’m not the best housekeeper in the world.
So she was in my apartment on her own. She’s heard me say every time she comes by “Don’t let the Cat out.” ” Watch out for Banner He likes to
escape.” But clearly she never “heard” me. Somehow She let Banner out. Not sure if he got out when she came in or when she left. All I know is that when I got home Balboa was there but no Banner. I’d just finished searching the apartment when I heard a faint MEOW.
I stood very still and listened. The meows were coming from the front door. So I opened it and there the little miscreate was. As soon as the door opened he shot inside. I don’t know where he was hiding because he wasn’t in the hall when I came home. My upstairs neighbor was just coming in the outside door and said he was wondering if that was my cat. I’ll have to ask him if he let Banner in from the great outdoors or if Banner was just in the hall when he came in. In any case I hope Banner has learned his lesson, at least for the next month or two.
We hope you enjoyed this Blast From the Past
Agents of Chaos
Welcome to my life.
Please note: this really happened, and no cats were harmed in the chronicling of this post — though one was forcibly evicted from a bathtub and another contributed to the general unraveling of my sanity.
I started the night so well. Fitbit proudly informed me I’d clocked 51 whole minutes of deep sleep — practically a luxury spa retreat by my standards — and I thought, Yes. Tonight is the night. I’m finally going to sleep like a human being instead of a haunted scarecrow.
Naturally, that’s when everything went straight to hell in a handbasket.
Around 2 a.m., I was jolted awake by a rhythmic knocking sound. Not a random thump. Not a creak. A pattern. The kind of noise that makes you sit up and think, “Well, that’s not good.”
I still have no idea what it was. It didn’t repeat, didn’t reveal itself, and wasn’t attached to any cat‑related crime scene. Just unexplained knocking and then poof — gone.
At first, I thought it was outside — the windows were open — but then I realized neither cat was in the bedroom. That’s when the “responsible pet parent” alarm went off.
The Innocent Cats (Allegedly)I got up to check on them, expecting to find at least one of them mid‑shenanigan.
Nope.
Balboa was curled up on the couch looking like a Renaissance painting of a peaceful angel. Banner looked suspiciously innocent, which is how I knew he’d probably just finished a snack he wasn’t supposed to have.
Since I was already up, I figured I’d go to the bathroom and then try to salvage the rest of the night.
That’s when the gremlins took over.
Banner marched into the tub like he was claiming new territory and refused to get out. Balboa got up and started following me around like a tiny furry shadow.
I tried sitting in a chair, hoping Banner would get bored of lying in the tub without an audience, but no — he was committed to the bit.
Eventually, I had to turn the water on to evict him. He gave me the betrayed look of a Victorian orphan in a Dickens novel, but he left. I shut the door behind him like I was sealing off a crime scene.
Back to bed I went… or tried to.
By then, I was fully awake, my nose was running, and my brain had rebooted into “middle‑of‑the‑night chaos mode.” I had just settled when Balboa hopped onto the bed.
Normally fine. Except he refused to settle down. He did the whole “walk in circles, flop dramatically, get up again, repeat” routine.
This continued for the rest of the night — a tag‑team of feline interruptions, sniffles, and the slow unraveling of my sanity.
And the knocking? Still unexplained. I’m choosing to believe it was either a ghost with poor timing or the universe tapping out Morse code for “good luck.”
A nap is absolutely in my future. Possibly my destiny.
If you’re curious why cats get the midnight zoomies or suddenly claim the bathtub as sovereign territory, my feed is filled with articles that offer an explanation, Sadly I think most of them are making it up as they go along.
And In case you missed it here’s a a brief retospective of my chaotic life with cats Kitty Shenanigans or Life with 2 Cats
Today my sweet Banner turns six — which, in cat years, puts him right around 40 in human years. Middle age. The era of “I could jump up there… but the universe is telling me to chill instead.”
Banner has always been my mellow gentleman. A big, soft, good‑natured orange fluff ball who radiates pure 60s flower‑power energy.
Honestly, he’s a total throwback. Peaceful. Unbothered. Friendly to everyone. If he had thumbs, he’d be flashing peace signs and wearing a daisy tucked behind one ear.
And then there’s his social side. Banner is the cat who runs to the door when the doorbell rings. While Balboa disappears behind the headboard like he’s avoiding the draft, Banner trots over to greet whoever’s visiting. He’s basically a hippie politician — shaking hands, spreading good vibes, and campaigning for universal treats.
Every now and then I can coax him into a burst of play — a jump, a pounce, a brief moment of “wow, man, I can still move.” He always looks surprised at himself, like he just rediscovered gravity.
He’s the perfect counterbalance to Balboa’s intense, territorial, “I am the rightful ruler of this condo” energy. Banner just shrugs, flops over, and lets the world be what it is. Banner knows who he is. A vibe. A mood. A cloud with whiskers who may or may not have experimented with a little “grass” in his youth — and I don’t mean the catnip variety.
For all his mellow, flower‑power charm, Banner has a streak of mischief that keeps life interesting. He’s earned a few nicknames over the years — Mr. Fluffy Butt, Wreck‑It Ralph, and Mommy’s Little Helper — each one a tribute to his unpredictable moments of enthusiasm.
My favorite story? The day he stole my car keys. I searched everywhere, convinced I’d lost my mind, until Banner came trotting out with them dangling from his mouth like a trophy. He looked so proud, as if he’d just solved the mystery himself. That’s Banner in a nutshell: part gentleman, part goofball, and always ready to lend a paw… even if he’s the reason you needed help in the first place.
So happy birthday, my gentle, groovy boy. Welcome to middle age. You wear it with peace, fluff, and the kind of charm that makes every visitor feel like they’ve wandered into the friendliest commune in town.
