Ripe for zee Gatos

I write to you from another table by the window in a different state with a different glass of wine, a different dinner simmering on the stove. A breeze has snuck across the desert, blowing over the house of my loving Camera Coon, over mountains and brush and snake-skinny highways into this little hacienda in Nuevo Mexico, and at JQ’s behest, there is classical music.

I am infinitely glad for the lack of city sounds. I may never go back, except for my cat, my beard, my collection of loved ones, my knick-knacks, and so forth. Back east, our cat sitters are armed to the tilt.

Here are some cats, to celebrate my reintroduction into nature. God Bless America.


That sender of emails-full-of-excellent-photos strikes again.

“Here we go again…I thought these were pretty neat and knew you would too!!”

from POOCHCAT and also BUNKY

Erin loves cats. Lauren hates them. But, they both know that I am a little cat cray.

from E$

Cat + Didion, “for your cats!”, my elegant blog boss writes. Oh, Fiona.


Story of my life most always.

Great minds think alike.


How funny that I am in The Coon‘s state, blogging about a cat she recently visited in my (old) state. Love for all involved, and I was sorry to miss this weekend.

“10 minutes into my visit, Clau Clau stole my chair.”

from PAUL

For my dogg bloggers.


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, Mixed Bag O'Cats, Olive and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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