A very controversial subject, wouldn’t you say? My blog name is taken from the very eye-opening book by Johnathan Safran Foer (Penquin Books – I have to say that, I think), Eating Animals, which mama bought because her step-grandson became a vegan and she wanted to know more about what he thinks. I read it and it is definitely, well,...
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My paws are flawless, youthful and utilitarian, not to mention really cute to gaze upon because I resemble a rabbit in many ways. I wouldn’t admit that to just anyone, but the cutitude of my paws can handle it. My paws are longer than most and curl when I’m happy so you can really notice it–that, and my grin. Mama’s paws, on...
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Happy together Mama just read an article by Adrian Leeds, on her very good newsletter site, Parler Paris, that France is still resisting acceptance of the gay community. This is what she showed me: “It is surprising to me that France is the least tolerant country in Western Europe toward homosexuals, according to a World Values Survey. Twenty-eight...
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That’s me, (or rather, that is I), lounging on one of the colorful Catalan pillows that mama throws around the couch. We live in France but near Catalonia, which really wants to be its own little country and secede from Spain but hasn’t yet worked out just how to do that. The Catalonians think they make all the money because of their very...
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NO, NO, don’t make me….! Mama’s doing “kitty, kitty” with that sound in her voice and I know I’m headed for my travel cage (let’s just call it a little portable house—I hate CAGE) and I’m pretty sure I’m also headed for the VET in the little town next to ours. Look, I’ve been there before, and...
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Grooving…. I know I’ve mentioned my drug patch, for that is exactly what it is, except legal. Above, I am in my slightly altered state, able to let go of an unsuccessful mouse chase, failed bird hunts, lizards too fast for my taste, and so on… But I have to say a few words about places who sell other ‘nips’ in place of the...
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I just wandered in from the garden, and there was this smell…I can only describe it as the smell of home. Mama was baking bread. She makes this flat, golden focaccia when company is coming and it only takes a few minutes to stir up the dough (I watch, fascinated, but she won’t let me help because paws and bread dough don’t mix that well, so to...
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I was watching mama shell fava beans the other day, and as she popped those little succulent morsels out of their heavy encasements, she managed to send one or two my way like pop-gun corks, scaring the bejesus out of me in the process. But fava beans are really, really worth the shelling, eaten with a little pecorino, as you may have observed in a...
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A TRES BIEN TOT!!!! Just like Bob Dylan’s song, I may be a complete unknown, but now I have a direction home (!), and I’m not a rollin’ stone (any longer). My family is really mama and papa and their families and their friends so I guess you could say I’m connected pretty nicely for love and affection for my little kitty self and...
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Mama just noticed that this blog is number 80! Well, that’s not many compared to French-Word-A-Day or many other blogs out there, but she’s happy, so I’m happy. She said to me this morning, “Wow, almost my age!” but she is nowhere near 80 and even if she were, she would be happy to be there. Hey, better than the...
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Papa’s sister is married to a poet. Yes, a real live one who makes words sound like music and I know because mama, who loves poetry, has read some of his poems to me as kitty bedtime stories when I’m getting all relaxed and snoozy. Mama and papa drove four hours to see papa’s sister and the poet in the Lot, which is where I thought they...
Read MoreOur kind and generous neighbor, Jean, was giving mama a dozen eggs from his (slurp, slurp) chickens (just kidding—I wouldnd’t touch one of those giant red hens with a ten-foot spading fork—make that a rake; I don’t like words that sound like spay…well, you know) and he put them in a red plastic bucket and then handed them up to our garden with...
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You know, I think most about things when I’m on mama’s lap (or papa’s, but he doesn’t like my claws hanging on to his leg when I’m about to slip so he puts me on mama’s legs instead), and she’s just reading along, having a great old time with the IHT (International Herald Tribune), the best newspaper in English we...
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I’m in love. You know, kitties are not supposed to be very friendly with dogs, but a friend of mama and papa, or rather, two friends, recently sent her something wonderful in an email because they are artists and incredibly original artists and mama and papa knew them in LA, that huge city across the water, and when mama showed the piece of art to...
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I was taking a bath this afternoon, as is my wont (habit, custom, etc.) and mama came at me with a wet Kleenex and took my kitty tears away. I am amazingly docile when she does this, and it’s nice to have a little grooming from someone other than myself, but you know, sometimes I just like to do it myself and if I don’t get that little bit...
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DARYL WAITING FOR WALK…. Well, I was babysat upon while those two anthros of mine went to Marseille, met a Jack Russell, and probably saw more fish than I’d find in cat heaven and now they’re back, weary and windblown, but cuddling me and playing games and brushing my fur and snuggling up and I’m running around like a...
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I was out wandering around my little garden the other day and I waved my paw at our neighbour next door but he didn’t even look my way. Papa said that when he, papa, said “Bonjour” to that same neighbor, which everyone in France is supposed to say to anyone he or she meets, provided it is still daytime and you weren’t born in...
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Mr. Hawking is my hero!! Mama and papa were watching a film on John Lennon and of course, that wonderful song was part of the film, and I started thinking, yet again, about how anthros go about making war and peace with one another, and I remembered that mama read to me toady that the great scientist, Stephen Hawking, has pulled out of a Presidential...
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So you see here that I have rivers to cross and mountains to climb. Mama thinks that if I exercise (by climbing mountains?) I will stay slim and svelt (I love that word!) and so she hides my dry stuff on top of this huge rock that lives (literally) in her office and then I’m supposed to figure out where my food is. The truth is–I figured that...
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Well, today is tomato-planting time. As you may imagine, I am a pro at this in that I try to nip off the tops of the plants and mama yells, “NO, NO, Loulou, not the tops, just the side leaves up to the three at the top!” Well, of course I knew that–I just wanted to stir things up a bit. Then she digs a hole as deep as the roots and stem...
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