You may remember this photo from this post in 2007 – the “O” series:
From left to right, oldest to youngest: Othello, Oberon, Olivia.
The other day, I got this photo of the “P” series in the same window:
“O” cats = Othello and his trainees.
“P” cats = post-Othello: Puck and his trainee(s).
(this blog post typed with Portia sitting on the mousepad)… Read more
…than by adopting a new black cat?
Yesterday, Othello’s vet asked me to allow her to keep him and do an autopsy, more or less – she, like me, was disturbed by how suddenly we lost him, and wanted to find out what was going on.
She called me when she was done. What she found out has disturbed me a lot – and humbled me. You probably don’t want to read past this point if you don’t want to cry. … Read more
This morning, during what seemed like it was just going to be a routine diaper change, darling son of mine unleashed an event that shall forever be known as the Poopocalypse. Now, I’ve hunted for poopapotamus in the suburbs around Poopopolis before, and I’ve read many times a passage of Dickens calling for decreasing the surplus poopulation, but this was a real game of poop goes the weasel. I’ll admit to having barely hung on to my own breakfast during this one, it was such a mess.
And now the pictures! (But not of that.) Let us speak no more of the Poopocalypse. … Read more
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