Kitty!

Sashimi Bun

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The day I brought the kitty home I had a temperature of 102 degrees. The drive to the humane society had been an act of rebellion against my better judgement: I was a little dizzy, a little nauseated, my throat swarming with antiviral armies wielding spears, javelins, occasionally catapults.

But I had been sweating in bed for three days. The sixteen year old in me moped to the kitchen and whined. “Oh my god, get out of the house.”

The ten year old in me perked up. “AND LOOK AT KITTENS.”

So I popped two Dayquil and took my adult body on a feverish adventure. I knew what I wanted. An orange cat, male, two or three years old at least. I would name him Milo.

More photos of Sashimi Bun: here.

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Kitty!

Bloody Chase

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(From The Big Book of Chilling Ghost’s, by Annie Mathiowetz, age 8.)

Once there was a kitten that loved to play on graves!

One day she was walking on the graves like she always did when whack! Something was pulling on her!

“Meow!”

She was very scared. She cried and cried for help, but every house was asleep! So that was the end of the cat, or . . .

“Meow!”

Was it?

She finally freed herself and she still didn’t learn her lesson!

The very next day she did it again!

And the next day there was blood on the grave! But it wasn’t the kitten’s! Then the next day she saw the blood began to rise!

She went out and chased it all around the yard! And she finally caught it!

But the blood didn’t stay on the ground! It began to sink with the kitten on it!

The kitten tried to free herself but couldn’t! Not this time. She cried, she howled, but no one heard her!

“Meow!”

And no one ever saw the kitten again! They searched the graves in every graveyard, but all they found was the blood that took the kitten in!

So the next time you see blood on a grave you better not walk on it!

R.I.P.

(Image taken at the Mpls/St. Paul Zombie Pub Crawl. Full album: here.)

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Kitty!, Late Summer Blog Challenge

Festivities

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While I was packing to move home to Minneapolis, my mom was packing to move to Savannah. “You’ve got a bunch of stuff in the basement,” she said. “I can drop it off at your new place, but I don’t know what you want. Like, Halloween decorations?”

“You still have my Halloween decorations?” I cried.

This weekend, Paige and I decided to decorate the apartment for Halloween. We pulled out the cardboard box she’d set aside for us: skeleton lights, skull lights, pumpkin lights. A rubber spider on a string. A wicker witch I’d purchased in my questionable tastes phase. A red light bulb, some clay pumpkins we’d made and painted as kids.

“My Halloween tree!” I hooted.

“Tra la la la, decorating the Halloween tree,” I sang from the living room floor. “Tra la la la, little ghost ornament on the Halloween tree.”

“You need to settle down,” Paige said.

Okay, I confess: the above kitty is new, purchased a couple of months ago at Michael’s. (Like, in August. I walked through the inappropriately early Halloween section on my way to the frames and was blinded by its beautiful purple light, enchanted by its wee dumb eyes. I stopped in my tracks. “SOLD,” I said to no one in particular.) And I still need a paper jointed skeleton for our door. We’ve netflixed Tales From the Crypt, season 3. Who’s coming over for cider?

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Kitty!

Postcards From Home

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There are many lovely things about working from home, especially when it rains twenty days in a row. You’re warm and dry, and the coffee is always good.

But most wonderfully, every time you sit down and open your laptop, warm things come out of nowhere and get all snuggly-like.

snuggles

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