'I'm eating for god's sake!' |
They lived up on the hill in Hoosick Falls, New York and had a giant boat of a car. It was a bright, almost glittering, tan-ish color. Behind their handsome Victorian home was a small barn -- a carriage house really. You know the type -- in cities they're converted into charming, madly sweet, posh, insanely expensive dwellings. Envy!
'You don't want any of this, do you?' |
I remember, on a visit when I was no more than ten, Margaret let me accompany her as she prepped and then brought dinner out to the herd. After pouring piles of kibble in a few giant silver colored, metal mixing bowls we paraded out to the ‘barn.’ While I held the bowls, she used all her strength to pull open the huge, heavy sliding doors. Inside was the most wondrous and magical of sights -- throngs, legions, a seemingly infinite number of cats.
Hot Princess |
Heaven! Seriously. I wanted to move in. Given how often we moved, my father’s allergies and my mother’s loathing of all four footeds, we never had cats. Aunt Margaret opened a door to a spectacularly beautiful universe.
Rocco in his Summer Palace |
So what’s up now at Bob and Donna’s Valhalla CafĂ©? Greta and Gaston aren’t squabbling quite as much though at least some of that is, possibly, due to her arriving later in the morning -- presumably to duck our operatic boy. Rocco, the old man of the mob, spends most afternoons lounging and scowling on our rickety back porch -- his Summer Palace.
Our beautiful Coco? Like me, she just can’t abide the heat and divides her time between the front window seat (where she can keep a close watch on the neighborhood doings and catch a breeze) and laying under the ceiling fans, waiting for me to bring her lemonade and popsicles.
Poor dears.
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