Today we trabeled to Maine for Internashunal Bizness—because if you’re going to run a global operation, you need the proper paperwork in all the states, obbiously. We only need one more for the US operashuns to be complete!

Waffles came wiff us, but he wasn’t feeling his best, so he stayed back at the hotel to rest. He made a cozy little nest out of extra towels and rated the room service soup a 3.7 out of 5. “Good broth, but no garnish,” he mumbled before drifting off to nap again. Reuben tucked a tiny note under his pillow that said, “Get well soon. We saved you a rock.”

After our bizness at the licensing office was done, we took a detour to enjoy the Maine coast. The beaches were soft and breezy, and the lighthouses stood tall and serious, like they knew they were on postcards. Baxter tried to climb one before realizing it was “not climbable wiffout consequences.”

Reuben was thrilled to bisit the giant scale model of the Solar System. He took notes, did a few calculations for fun, and kept saying things like, “This is important context for time trabels.” No one qwestioned it.

Fish, naturally, made a beeline for the Fish Market. He wore a note that said “NOT A SNACK”—just in case. A vendor did ask him if he was a rare imported species, to which Fish replied, “I am limited edition.” He left wiff a wedge of smoked cheese and a story to tell.

We’ll bring Waffles back a lighthouse magnet and maybe a small asteroid if Reuben has his way.

Fank you Carol Littlefield!

Wow, what a journey this has been! We saw a different vet today and did an x-ray — thankfully, she couldn’t see a tumor, AND she couldn’t feel one. We’re taking that as good news, even though we still don’t have all the answers about what’s going on in that little body. We’re doing everything we can to give the best care and all the love for as long as possible.

P.S. The vet said he has a beautiful spleen. Are you jealous??

Baxter Wiff a B Update from the Wings

Barry, still wearing yesterday’s headset (and possibly yesterday’s socks), was spotted at the tiny backstage desk sipping cold espresso and muttering softly into his mic:

“Okay team, we’re on Plan G… maybe H… Waffles is out again. Repeat, Waffles is still out. I need someone who can do his part, talk pastry, and wear a bowtie without irony. Anyone? No? Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

With a half-eaten slice of cheese toast left untouched, Barry is visibly tired — and not just because he accidentally called “lighting cue 3″ 10 minutes too early. He’s been up since dawn coordinating lighting gels, triple-checking Reuben’s fruit tray, and trying to reschedule Baxter’s time travel cue around everyone’s coffee breaks.

“I can cue fog and dodge a rogue wheel of Camembert mid-show,” he grumbled. “But I cannot, I will not, learn Waffles’ harmony part by curtain.”

Barry is doing his best. But if anyone sees a rat in a bowtie willing to cover for Waffles until he returns, please report to the stage manager’s desk immediately. Preferably with cheese.

Curtain in ten. Barry’s hanging on by a thread. A thread and one last espresso shot.

And you’re all inbited!!

Today’s a big day—it’s our 2nd Gotcha Day, and the celebrashun is just as joyful and chaotic as you’d fink! We’ve got the table set wiff all our faborite treats: cheese slices, colorful macarons, a tiny lemonade that’s already been knocked ober twice, and Reuben is closely guarding his chocolate pudding cup. We hab balloons bobbing ober our heads and sometimes they bonk you which is kind ob scary, but it’s ok they add a festibe buzz to the room.

I’m sittin’ proudly at the center, watchin’ my brothers—Waffles, Barry, and Reuben—enjoying the fun wiff snacks. And yes, Fish is here too, eben tho he came home a week later ’cause he needed a little more perkulating time. That doesn’t change a fing. He might not hab been here first, but he’s just as loved, and he knows it.

This day is all about beginnings, about chosen family, and about the tiny, perfect chaos only me and my brothers can create. Want a cookie?