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The cat at its desk at night, writing, surrounded by pinned photographs and notes about the people it watches.
A monthly letter for overlooked moments

I've Been Watching Hoomans

For research purposes only.

You Hoomans Miss The Good Bits

Little moments, habits and interactions hiding inside everyday life.

So I'm Mailing Them Back To You

Letters to help you notice what you usually rush past.

Subscribe keep scrolling
Twelve a year. Posted slowly, like everything worth having.
A mock personnel file for the cat: occupation, neighbourhood observer; threat level low; judgment level high.
The correspondent

Name withheld. Opinions, several.

Spends most days watching hoomans. Insists it's research, not nosiness. Takes detailed notes when necessary. Has formed several opinions by now. Ready to share with you, on demand.

Threat level low
Judgment level high
Naps per day several
Subscriptions

Letters, for as long as you want them.

One a month, posted anywhere there is a letterbox. Three months and up, and a second letter goes free to somebody of your choosing — signed by you. Stop at the end of any term; I will pretend not to notice.

Posted worldwide. Prices shown in US dollars — switch above at any time.

What turns up

Rather more than a letter.

The letter
The illustration
The coaster
The comic strip
The surprise
The un-rot sheet

No advice. I'm a cat.

The route

How Purr Next Door works.

01

Subscribe by the 15th

Subscribe before the 15th of the month to be included in that month's mail.

02

I post on the 20th

Your letter leaves the Purr Next Door on the 20th of every month.

03

Watch your mailbox

Depending on your shipping region, it should reach you in around 2–10 days.

Missed the 15th? No worries. Your subscription automatically rolls over to the following month's issue.
Instagram findings

More of these live at @purr_next_door.

A few got out and ended up there. The rest go by post.

Observation number one: every adult I have met appears to be improvising; some simply do it more confidently than others.
Observation number two: every human seems convinced they are the only one struggling; evidence suggests otherwise.
Field note four: what the human feels during a presentation versus what is actually happening in the room.
Field note six: spent months looking for a job, celebrated on finding one, now celebrates every day they get to leave it.
Questions I have been asked

Answered, reluctantly.

A paper letter tied with twine and a cat postage stamp, resting on a ledge at sunset.

A note about your week already exists.

It is only waiting for an address.

Subscribe
purr next door Subscribe
The cat at its desk at night, writing, surrounded by pinned photographs and notes about the people it watches.
A monthly letter for overlooked moments

I've Been Watching Hoomans

For research purposes only.

You Hoomans Miss The Good Bits

Little moments, habits and interactions hiding inside everyday life.

So I'm Mailing Them Back To You

Letters to help you notice what you usually rush past.

Subscribe Twelve a year. Posted slowly, like everything worth having.
keep scrolling
A mock personnel file for the cat: occupation, neighbourhood observer; threat level low; judgment level high.
The correspondent

Name withheld. Opinions, several.

Spends most days watching hoomans. Insists it's research, not nosiness. Takes detailed notes when necessary. Has formed several opinions by now. Ready to share with you, on demand.

Threat level low
Judgment level high
Naps per day several
Subscriptions

Letters, for as long as you want them.

One a month, posted anywhere there is a letterbox. Three months and up, and a second letter goes free to somebody of your choosing — signed by you.

Posted worldwide. Prices shown in US dollars — switch above at any time.

What turns up

Rather more than a letter.

Keep scrolling and the envelope opens — everything inside lands on the desk, one piece at a time.

The letter
The illustration
The coaster
The comic strip
The surprise
The un-rot sheet

No advice. I'm a cat.

The route

How Purr Next Door works.

01

Subscribe by the 15th

Subscribe before the 15th of the month to be included in that month's mail.

02

I post on the 20th

Your letter leaves the Purr Next Door on the 20th of every month.

03

Watch your mailbox

Depending on your shipping region, it should reach you in around 2–10 days.

Missed the 15th? No worries. Your subscription automatically rolls over to the following month's issue.
Instagram findings

More of these live at @purr_next_door.

A few got out and ended up there. The rest go by post.

Observation number one: every adult I have met appears to be improvising; some simply do it more confidently than others. Observation #01
Observation number two: every human seems convinced they are the only one struggling; evidence suggests otherwise. Observation #02
Field note four: what the human feels during a presentation versus what is actually happening in the room. Field note #004
Field note six: spent months looking for a job, celebrated on finding one, now celebrates every day they get to leave it. Field note #006
Questions I have been asked

Answered, reluctantly.

Anything else, and the cat would rather you just asked: [email protected]

A paper letter tied with twine and a cat postage stamp, resting on a ledge at sunset.

A note about your week already exists.

It is only waiting for an address.

Subscribe