Sorry. I was starting to post again and then Suzi and I went to Boston for a museum show. And we got Covid. Second time. Second chances can be brutal.
Speaking of second chances, we gave one to these cats.
“I won’t split them up,” the woman said. She was the cat rescuer, a relative of our neighbor. She had taken in a mother with four kittens. All feral. Two female kittens, two male. She was keeping the females and needed a home for the two boys. She felt the brothers were close, so close they had to go as a pair.
Suzi and I were in search of a cat. A cat. Not a pair. They were about six weeks old and very cute and they cuddled next to each other. A year later, they still cuddle next to each other. That shelf is nine feet off the floor in our basement. I have no idea in hell how they get up there. The spend their days in our basement, which apparently is Disneyland for the cats. We feed them in the morning and at night. During the day they prowl the basement in search of critters, or they hang out high above us.
It’s a second life for them, and a better one.
I’ll be writing about food and booze and books regularly now. If someone offers you a kitten, or two, do consider it. It’s civilizing.