In thirty-seven minutes, we hit the road. Until then, I’ll tell you about some cats I’ve collected while visiting the ancestral home.
This is a detail from mon bon croissant fromage frere’s wild animal shirt. This is one of the many reasons why Joseph Eugene Basil the Great Quinn IV is fantastic.
Happy birthday to my dearest Momcat! Cioci Tina, loyal reader, frequent contributor, and fantastic godmother of mine sent Mumsie this card. She knows what’s up.
In honor of Momcat’s grand anniversary of birth, the family took her to The Bear Creek Cafe for breakfast. (If you find yourself at the junction of Route 115 and The Bear Creek Road PLEASE GO. JQ recommends The Hungry Bear Breakfast and Davio has traditionally enjoyed The Cinnamon Bear Breakfast.) Anyway, there is a gift shop attached and they have many cat-lady objects. Behold.
Grandma HATES cats. She thinks they are disgusting.
Yesterday she told me that, for the brief time her family of ten had a cat when my father was just a wee lad, she used to like when it hid from her underneath the stove. When Nana Zookster fell ill with an allergy to the feline, Grandma rejoiced. Cats creep her out and she said, once when watching my aunt’s cat sit on her shoulder, the hair stood up on the back of her Grandma neck. So she was horrified when, after pulling into her driveway, we saw this fellow running off into the twilight.
You have to look pretty closely…this cat must have known Grandma’s feelings.