A Yard Sale Discovery

A picture is worth a thousand words, but what if you have more than one--together?

I want to share the story behind a small, framed photo of a black and white kitty. Found at a nursing home yard sale, its owner is unknown but that doesn't make it any less of a treasure. It was special to someone.






It represented a special pet that was probably not allowed in the nursing home, or reminded its owner of better times.

We couldn't stop looking at it after its purchase. There was a nagging feeling there was more to the picture than met the eye.

I watched as we took it apart.






You could see the usual back of any photograph paper and cardboard, but we discovered more






Now, we'll turn over the old Christmas card






So, you never know what personal lives you'll discover when you pick up an item at a garage or yard sale. They sometimes are all that is left of memories, of a special kitty, and smiles gone by.





--Tom

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tom and I are going to share this post today so we can wish everyone in the CB, our family, friends and our publisher Inkwater Press a very happy Thanksgiving.

This is the latest picture of Mittens with Tom in the background, along with books (which seem to be everywhere) and flowers. We're thankful for those who have inspired us and the new generation represented here who, when they're not playing, will see to our future!

Take care, everyone and a very Happy Thanksgiving!

Little Grasshopper

A teensy, tiny smidge of a kitty named Mittens has invaded the rectory. Can you believe it? I am now a father figure (no pun intended) to my new little brother three months old!







He is so cute. I hope people don't think he's cuter than I am. Okay, so it's a close call. Here's another pic of cuteness in the extreme.







Okay, okay. That's enough. I can do cute, too, buster!







I think everything is going to be just fine. Julie says there hasn't been a kitten in the house for more than fifteen years. (She's always taking pity on us older cats) Mittens came from a shelter all full of p#** and vinegar. I have to hang onto the wall when he darts in and out of the rooms like a little rocket.







I can't wait to teach him altar tricks and sanctuary etiquette--oh, and then there's introducing him to nip, basketfuls of clean clothes and cat box editorials.

Hey, Mitty, where are you?? Hey, little buddy!

Tom and the Fly

"The time has come," the walrus said, "to speak of many things."






I don't think the walrus had in mind what I'm about to tell you. First, I want to say that being a cat of the cloth means I can talk to anybody about anything, and they can talk to me.

The other day, I was sleeping, minding my own business






when along came this tiny winged creature who wanted to talk






and talk, and talk, and talk, naturally of many things. There wasn't even a confession in there to keep my interest.






Oh, my Cod, I was losing my patience.

But, I listened and I listened.

I wasn't even able to get a word in edgewise.

Finally, I'd had enough.






I didn't mean to, honestly, and this has been weighing on my conscience ever since. What do you think I saw when I removed my paw?

He was still there.

Talking..and talking..(hehe) Although, he might have pawsed for a moment.

--Tom

The Cat With the Halo Tattoo: Wordy Wednesday

Okay, so everyone is getting tattoos. There's even a girl with a dragon tattoo. We've come a long way from "I love Mom" on the upper arm. Will says he'll get one that says "I love Tom," but I think he was just kidding.

I thought about I love God on my leg, but I don't love pain, so I didn't do it. Besides, those of us with fur don't have much room. So, I'm thinking of having a simple halo tattooed over my heart just in case there's somebody filling in for St. Peter at the pearly gates.

A halo over my heart. I can't show you that 'cause I'm only thinking about it, but check out the heavenly light around me from the sun. A much better choice of halo, I think. Snoozing in its warm glow just might be enough for now.

--Tom

Cats and Coffee

I think we cats need our own version of Starbucks. After sticking my paw into an occasional iced coffee, I've discovered I really like the taste.





Now, we couldn't call it Starbucks because that would be catbyright infringement and the java people who don't care for cats wouldn't appreciate it. I would suggest the name Pawbucks, refreshment open to all four-footed patrons. I say let the birds have their own Clawbucks, or take a chance and drop in on ours. I can't think of anything I would like better than to have a few feathers with my latte.





The reason for this demand for our own coffees and espressos and catpuccinos is a matter of equality. I'm tired of having to share.





But share I will as I continue to enjoy ice cubes a little on the watery side and milk coffee with its unmistakeable, wakeable flavor. Sometimes I have a little toast, butter and jam with my iced dribbles, but it's usually the refreshing taste of coffee from a well-chilled glass that, by itself, is the cat's meow.




So, let's raise a paw until we can raise a glass at our own coffee establishment!