So, I have a cat named Olive.
She has big eyes and three legs and likes to bite and pee on things. She’s a dream! I sincerely love her, and am always sad to leave her when I go out of town (but maybe now that the delightful Jade bought me a fancy cat carrier I’ll bring her with me). Luckily, I have had a dedicated team of cat-watchers who have taken a shining to my chompy miss.
Right as soon as Olive came into our lives, I accompanied my Bearded Companion to Pennsylvania, where I left him for the summer. Quinn stopped over first, and next Mike Shea took the helm, and when I returned, there was this note.
Next I travelled to Baltimore, and Dan Blum biked over TWICE DAILY, that gem of a man. (Piece it together, I don’t have a scanner you know.)
Jono took the long shift, when I was in New Mexico.
I did a lot of biking today.
p.s. Olive is still alive.
p.s.s. she looked bored so I bought you guys a kitten
Jono would later go on to make me feel bad at a dinner party.
Jean Paul watched her when I was in Baltimore again, and happily he de-coned her. And she looked lovely.
This weekend my beloved Camera Coon bunks with my three-legged cat-daughter– hey laaaaadies!
And now, because it’s just her and me and theoretical modern art texts and the rain outside the window and reruns of 30 Rock, I shall treat you to a photo montage de Olive.