Saturday, March 30, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Monday, March 11, 2013
It’s amazing how two 10-pound furry little things can totally change the way you do things. From the moment Pimp came into my life almost 14 years ago (and Moo showed up on my back porch four years ago), my life has never been the same.
I wouldn’t trade having cats for anything in the world, but because I have them, there are some things that I'll never be able to do again.
1. Wake up after 7 a.m. (and that’s sleeping in!)
People tell me stories about lazing around in bed until noon, hitting the snooze repeatedly throughout the morning, or just lying around in bed and relaxing before popping up for the day. I marvel at this idea. Imagine that!
My day starts with Moo’s cold, sometimes wet nose in my face, gently prodding my forehead. Then it’s a paw at my nose. Then it’s a furry body prancing across my pillow and back and forth over my body ... on his way back to nudge my face with his nose again.
Rolling over only makes the matter more urgent. Now it’s Moo firmly meatloafed on my chest, his face one inch from mine, burrowing in my neck and rubbing my chin. Eventually, it’s a mad meower, standing next to me on the floor by the bed, more persistent and unsnoozable than any alarm clock. Ignore that and he starts knocking every object off the nightstand, one by one.
The cat has not eaten for at least six hours, and is clearly starving. I’m up, I’m up! And then he eats five bites and walks away from his bowl.
Read more here.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Friday, March 8, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
Like her name, Siglinda Scarpa seems to be from another world. And not just Italy, where she was born. But one in which you can hear the animals speak, and everyone gets along.
Ms. Scarpa, 72, lives in a wooden house painted robin’s egg blue, in the middle of an open woodland, with old oaks and pines rising over sandy soil. With its second-story porches covered with the canes of Lady Banks’ roses, Carolina jasmine and wisteria, the house could be something out of a children’s book.
Some people come here to adopt a cat from the Goathouse Refuge, the animal sanctuary she runs, tucked back in the woods. Others come to buy her pottery or ceramic art, which is displayed in the sunny showroom on the first floor of this whimsical house: abstract pieces that evoke storms brewing in the sky; clay roasting pots shaped like squashes, with frogs or artichokes on their lids; or teacups molded like the face of a cat, the lines of cheek and jaw, nose and mouth drawn by a knowing hand.
For there are real cats everywhere.
Read more here.