Back, Sweaty, Battier than Ever.

Welcome to August, you fine folks.

Who’s ready for some cats??

Fresh from our westward foray (photos to the right>>), The Bearded Companion and I have once again made camp in southern Maryland where we have been sleeping in, avoiding the oppressive sunshine, and walking Seamus-dog along the thin stretch of beach where I always find rocks and sticks to take home and Jake sighs with great resignation. There is also coffee-drinking, lake-swimming, Zack-fraternizing, and some laundry currently drying out on the line.

I have done many crossword puzzles.

Sufficiently refreshed, and now endowed with reliable internet access, I am ready to hand over to you what is most deserved. Meow cats.

You will have to bear with me– I am greatly backlogged.  So, for now I will avoid outside contributions (though, please, keep them coming!!), for I feel it is important to follow T.B.C. and I the whole way through our most recent month of living– otherwise, how will you keep up?

Our story begins where all great stories do: in Huntingdon.

Here is the first part of a totally rad photo montage of the last days in our beloved town. How else would I spend it, besides scouring the borough for secondhand goods with a motley crue of the loveliest friends? (Pictured: Roy. Not pictured: Dan, Iggs, Ben, dead chipmunk.)

Dear Jake, More things I didn't buy, Love, Erica (aka blessed union of Cats and Owls...Christina and Quinn, take note.)

This is our foul/adorable friend, Roy. And this is what he found.

Here is Roy holding the pug named Percy. On this day, we were invited into Percy's personal home, something that had never before happened. There we encountered an ancient kitty, pictured above. All parties were pleased. Except for, of course, the cat.

Our final days in (see below)

were wrought with a sleepy sadness, the kind that can only come from thoroughly examining a profound love, to whom you must temporarily say goodbye. Every leaf looked greener, the river smelled more like the river, and even the train sounded sweet as it blasted past our windows day and night without cease or any shred of decency for the common good. There were hugs, handshakes, goodbyes, see-you-laters, and many loving visitors. As could be expected, I cried at the happenings of small things, and Jake patted my head and wiped off my face and put me back together again.

Sweat, cardboard boxes, IPAs, noodle houses, campfires, sleepovers, the rope swing, midnight rides to White Haven, courtyard coffee, truck stop ice cream sandwiches, cat sitting, the incessant whirring of fans, the ivy at the window, our well-loved rooms made empty…these are the things that form the shiny mosaic of the closing of one life and the beginning of another.

We are positioned, perched, waiting, and at least one of us is nervous.

Let me tell you more about cats to make myself feel better. Tomorrow.


About bearicaquinn

Smallish, smushy in the sad parts, certainly destined for cat-lady-dom. Enjoys boats, bikes, black coffee, pug faces, sourdough bread, the morning when you have slept long enough, beards, mountainsides, art, rooftops, etc. Will continue to live in things that are interestingly shaped. So octopus.
This entry was posted in Cat Kitsch, Charming Anecdote, Sightings!, The Cats of Summer and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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