Catz Rule Everything Around Me.
Meow.
I have a love/hate relationship with these two nasty little buggers.
See, Sasha and Kasha were both rescues of sorts- both rescued from dirty, teenage-boy apartments.
Sasha was a farm kitty who was bought on a whim by my older brother and his roommates.
They brought her back to NYC and she promptly (and tragically) fell out of a four story window.
She survived with just a tiny cut on her chin… She now has 8 lives left.
She’s the nicer of the two cats, but certainly lacks in the beauty department.
She also has a bad habit of escaping outdoors when you’re least expecting it (our cats are firmly indoor cats), and then manages to evade recapture for ages.
She lets you get in very close, almost as if to catch her, then sprints away.
That little ratfink.
Kasha was just a little kitten “rescued” from my friends’ apartment last summer.
They had initially rescued her from a field.
She is truly a feral cat… Raised among teenage boys, what else could one expect?
She is truly a feral cat… Raised among teenage boys, what else could one expect?
She’s a pretty one, covered in stripes and spots, but she’s very small.
I don’t expect she’ll grow much more. We call her Peewee. (More often than we use her real name! She’s such a dinky little thing.)
Kasha is not very friendly, and doesn’t like to be held or pet. Real lovely personality.
She eats like a starved and crazed animal, which she is not.
She’s even got a tiny pudgy little belly.
If you even come near her eating her food, she will make a strange, high pitched gurgling/growling noise and proceed to try to fit everything in her bowl in her mouth.
It’s grotesque. Seriously nauseous eating habits.
Also, Kasha tends not to purr. Or meow. She beeps.
She sounds like a bird mixed with a telephone.
I don’t know where this is going.
But basically, all I do is take photos of my cats and food.
And all I talk about are my cats. I don’t even like them that much.
Welcome to my life, I guess.
It’s very exciting and instagram-worthy.
I don’t have a recipe for these cookies.
I dumped a bunch of things in a bowl and hoped for the best.
When I experiment like that (which is very often), I always make notes on a post-it.
Trouble is, I have so many damn post-its that I can’t remember what they mean!
Also, I can only find two- I don’t know where the others go.
Somehow, I still have notes for an orange-olive oil cake, and I swear I’ve thrown this very one out three times.
It keeps coming back.
It keeps coming back.
But alas, the search for the maple-bacon-brown butter-brown sugar cookie post-it has been in vain. I will update this if I find it!
Be back soon… With ice cream!