Oliver’s love for burrowing, in this case into the sleeve of my mother’s red robe the day before Valentines Day, has become a real-live, genuine, sold-in-stores greeting card! The lovely people at Palm Press found my picture of our tabby in his heart shaped cave, (styling by Mom), and turned him into a Valentine! Keep […]
Though I do like sleeping in, at least the idea of it, it’s always overruled by hungry cats. But at least I don’t miss this face, this way, first thing. Or the way the light slides in, softly slicing away at the floors and tabletops, setting glass on fire. Good morning, everybody.
Pretty much sums things up, doesn’t it, Oliver?
Open on : A bucolic morning, soft and quiet, punctuated by patches of sunlight. Solomon dozes, and Oliver ponders, and eventually they fall asleep together, on the appropriately named daybed, paws just touching. Silence extends four minutes. The audience is given time to soften. Solomon: Whah? Oliver: Huhn? Solomon: […]
Okay. Honestly. Valentine’s Day, not a huge fan. But not a hater, either. So I opt, today, to wear a black boat neck top, yes, but with red shoes. Oliver, too, not a fan. He loves, but on his own terms. So we throw the love dust all over him, because we just can’t help […]
Transcribed verbatim: Oliver’s humans wish you all renewal, fresh starts, and exciting change this New Year. He’s right, we really do believe in all of that. But if you have an ideal perch, (and we do too), we hope it remains the perfect spot in 2012. Happy New Year All!
Working in my studio last night, I looked down, and discovered that Oliver had made a bed out of my fabric bin. He’s not a studio cat-he comes in only occasionally, to watch cars go past the window, or to steal a pompom, to beg for supper, or nurse his paws into a shopping bag […]
In the Dining Room of Horror, a nightmarish scene has been set. What terrors are lurking on the dining set from hell? Ooh. Scary papier mache. Do not fear. Horrifying skull is illuminated by battery-powered flicker candle so Dining Room of Horror does not catch on fire. Safety always. Witness, if you dare, Tabby Cat […]
They didn’t grow up together. And they’re separated in age by ten long years, eons of cat time, my Solomon an older gentleman who thoroughly ran his former house, made his own day, chose his own window sills and red blankets, executed lizard house-crashers and took on a confused raccoon that broke into his screened porch. […]
Penned by Oliver, on the occasion of his birthday: Today I am two. Whoopety–doo. My closest friend Solomon Treats me like poo. I have nowhere to go And nothing to do And no interest in finishing this stupid poem. Go away.