C. I've got nothing. Except cats.



Agnes posing for her 18th birthday photo. She turned 18 this past Saturday (02-26-11).

slice of life

What I love about cats (one thing) is their ability to find comfort just about anywhere. As long as it's the right place. Here is Agnes doing her signature lounging. Check out how the knitting book is propped up on the bowl of dried flowers.

That there *is* a bowl of dried flowers on the table. {Flowers from our garden. Picked by Eva.} With the walk man. The kids are both listening to the Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia Wrede. So far they both like the first book, Dealing with Dragons, and are less thrilled (much less thrilled, in Samuel's case) with the other three. I love hearing them discuss the books together.

There is also a bag for my knitting. And my current knitting. And the knitting book. A glass of water that was mine but has no doubt by this point become Agnes's. A mouse she will not eat. Cat food in the background she has already eaten. Oranges from Chili to the left. Mostly for Eva. A bowl with agates from the beach and a river rock from camping this summer.

Here is some Maxwell back story I was working on a few days ago (or so). I'm a little overwhelmed these days and find I am having trouble finishing up any of the blog posts I have been starting during the free spaces my mind ekes out-

At some point while living in New York during the summer of 1997, I decided I wanted a second cat. I had done research about adding a second cat to our home to help our cat Agnes with the transition. I had also convinced myself that a second cat would be good for Agnes's health (read- weight) and emotional well being. She seemed so enthusiastic when she saw other cats sitting or walking outside our various apartments in Los Angeles and then Brooklyn, it seemed a shoe in that if I got the right cat as a roommate for her, she would be thrilled.

Thirteen years later and she is still not thrilled. Agnes likes to keep her distance from Maxwell and bristles- growls, even- when he passes too close to her. Just the other day, Maxwell was sitting on my lap and Agnes climbed up to sit next to me. As soon as she saw Maxwell, she began growling. I covered her eyes as I often do in these cases and she stopped growling. All is well as long as she can't actually see Maxwell. With her eyes covered, Agnes was finally able to relax and pretend {as it were} that Maxwell was not sitting on my lap being pet just six inches from her.

I keep wondering if she will miss him when he is gone. I was touched, then, when I saw her sitting with him in the hall a few days after the growling-on-my-lap incident from above. Agnes was peaceful as she sat near Maxwell. Completely relaxed. Resting. It was all I could do to not sit down in between them and enjoy their company together. I kept walking, though. I did not want to be the one to disrupt the delicate balance clearly at work there in the hallway. And of course, when I tried to return to take a picture to document the occasion, Agnes had already gotten up and moved on...