Telling tales, of walking in wild places, of painting, of sleeping in warm places and of mice and other things....
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The barest whisker of a cat-claw moon hides behind a pelt of thick cloud and only the brightest of stars shines its light on the world, and She is frantic with doodling to try and finish Her book on time. So I, well, I, must rest for her. And this I do well.
When first we started there were four of us, all ginger, and Max. Time has passed. The ginger pride are ghost cats, appart from Elmo. Now the house holds Max, oldest, tabby farm cat, dark, usually found sleeping on a cushion, Elmo, last of the Gingers, beautiful handsome and wonderful who still walks to the high hill top. And now there is Baggage and Bundle, silver mischief in sharp clawed kitten form. The adventures continue.