I'm not going to mince words here: I absolutely despise felines. Currently, however, I am residing with two of the worst behaved cats on the planet.
Sylvie and Max are the two bookstore cats. I'm not exactly sure which is which, so I just call them both monsters. These two devils think it's fun to knock over dishes, chew on my fingers, push books off the shelves, waltz their dirty feet across clean book covers, jump into the middle of a chess game, among all sorts of other imaginable and unimaginable havoc. And then! they think it's alright curl up on my lap and sleep in my bed! What gall!
And yet, no matter how much I hate these two heathen monsters and their furry brethren, they are admittedly rather cute. I still find myself reaching out to scratch their heads when I walk by. Which is never a very good idea, and always results in a flurry of claws and teeth and sometimes blood...
I'd really like to skip their dinner and lock them out at night, but Ryan, who will always be a better person than I, is adamant that they stay. Oh, how I wish they were dogs. I am a dog person through and through- the unconditional love, endless trust, and the healthy appetites- these are the sorts of characteristics I can really bond with in a pet and I find I have totally new found appreciation for bookshop dogs.
And, oh HEY! Look-y there! Evidence that I was actually on this trip! It's not a terribly flattering picture, to be sure, but, as I'm always taking the pictures, this is really the only picture there is of me in front of the camera...
