I don't have whiskers

The other morning, my husband was about to take the kids to school. I said to my son, 'Come here and give me a kiss goodbye.' As he kissed me on the cheek he said, 'Didn't I already kiss you?' He thought for a moment. 'Oh, no wait, that was the cat.'


Hmmm. I'm not sure how to process a comment such as that.

So, just to avoid any confusion about who's who, here are a few ways to tell us apart:

1. I have no whiskers.
2. I am not covered in fluffy white fur (well, not counting my black sweater).
3. My nose is not pink and wet.
4. I don't have tuna breath.
5. I do not caterwaul in the morning until my husband feeds me.
6. I don't poop on the floor a mere 3 feet from the litter box (or anywhere else on the floor, for that matter!)
7. I am at least four feet taller than El Gato.
8. I am incapable of purring.
9. I have NEVER yakked up a hairball.
10. I don't drink from the sink faucet.
11. As soon as I step outside, my first instinct is NOT to roll around in the dirt.
12. My claws are neatly trimmed (not razor sharp agents of pain).
13. When the clock strikes 10:00pm, I don't turn into a crazy (I'm talking wide-eyed, full-on CRAZY) stalker of prey.

Me:

Cat: