Jan
30
I’d just spent ten minutes talking Lucy out from under her bed – she’d called Julia a dumbass – when I came downstairs and saw this.
Oh, hi Picasso.
So nice to see you on my table.
“What? You want me to move?”
“Really?”
“Are you sure?”
“Alright. I’ll get up. Dumbass.”
Geez, what a potty mouth.
Jan
11
The joke was funny until suddenly she realized that, hey, *I* post pictures and poetry about my cat…
by Leslie
ALL DAY. She might roll over.
Later. And sleep more.
And oooh, look at her. She’s pissed-
Okay, I have to interrupt this haiku for a second to tell you this. You’re not going to believe it. Dave did not know that “pissed” was a bad word. DID NOT KNOW. For 39 years!
Alright, back to business.
But! varies the location.
She mixes it up.
This would be a cool spot to add a bunch of pictures of Picasso sleeping in crazy places, but I don’t have- wait! I have one.
Yessssss. Dave will love that.
And look at these pictures I found!
I meant to tell you all about our “green” Christmas lights before Christmas, but yadda yadda excuses. Anyway, we basically took the House O’ Lantern idea and did it for Christmas because 1) I didn’t have money to spend on Christmas lights and 2) the idea of Dave climbing high up on our house makes me nervous. So, we did this instead which was extra fun because it was a decoration you could see both day and night, inside the house and out. Also, it doubled as a covering over our leaky windows. Yay for warmth! People need that!
This one is a candy cane.
To your left, a Christmas present and on the right, a Christmas bulb.
This one was a candle and, by far, in my opinion, the prettiest. But you can’t tell because of the glare on the window. Take my word for it.
Lovely! (Just pretend.)
Oct
20
I truly believe that the best way to heal is to love. I know this partly because of our cat Christy.
She joined our family – my mom, dad and me – in 1995 during a very difficult time. The details don’t matter – Christy didn’t care about them. Cats don’t care about all that much. They don’t care if you’re broken. Or broke. Or fat. Or mentally ill. They don’t worry about how you could or should be better or different. They just understand you as you are. And they love you. More importantly, they let you love them. Christy did that for us at a time when we really needed it.
Last night, Christy died. Though my heart is aching, it is also thankful for the sixteen years I had to love her. It turns out that loving is one of the best ways to live, too.
May
20
Once again, thanks to the not-really-all-that-romantic circle of life, we have kittens in need of good homes. Adorable kittens. Like this one..
…purrfect, except for one little problem…
He is claw number six. A good cat should have, like, five. (Can you name the movie I’m paraphrasing?!?)
Kitty has six claws on each front paw and you know you want a cat like that. You could probably train it to open your mail. Or your beer. Or something.
If free kittens don’t float your boat, you may go for a not-free, but affordable sock monkey made by hand.
Because, yeah. We’re still doing that.
Apr
21
My fish have been exhibiting some strange behavior. I’m pretty sure I’m thinking about it way more than I should. But that’s a normal reaction to something you don’t understand, right? I’m not the weirdo. It’s the fish. The fish are weird.
These are the guys I’m talking about.
The black and white on the left – let’s call him Rick – and the white one with the heart tattoo on the right is Steve. Yes, Steve has a tattoo. Apparently they can do that for fish. I’m not sure how it was determined that Steve was desirous of ink or in which configuration he wished for it to be applied. That’s the job of a fish whisperer, which clearly I am not. We only came to know Steve after he did some living. Obviously. My guess is that he’s had his heart broken. He could be bitter. I don’t know. I give him his space. Rick, on the other hand, does not. Rick likes Steve. Very much. Rick likes to chase Steve.
See? Look! There they go.
Rick? Whatcha doin’ there, buddy?
Rick also likes to stuff his face all up in Steve’s hind quarters. Like this.
Oh, Rick.
And this.
What are you DOING, Rick?
Also this.
For real, Rick? Come on!
Rick does this ALL. DAY. LONG. He’s doing it RIGHT NOW. I’m not sure if Steve feels pestered or pleasured. Fish aren’t all that expressive. It’s hard to read them. Either way, it seems like something I should put a stop to, don’t you think?
Stuff I Do
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Stuff You Should Do
You know, Stuff.
