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Saffy threw up clear fluid thrice and then refused to eat or drink anything. So we texted our vet at Pendragon Clinic and she suspected an upper respiratory tract infection. She said to give Saffy vitamin C syrup and observe her for 24 hours. Clearly Saffy wasn’t herself because she didn’t put up much resistance when we gave her the vitamins. She ate and drank a little on Saturday but she was too well-behaved—a sure sign she wasn’t feeling okay. Sunday we took her to the vet. She hates going to the vet so much that the minute she entered the consulting room she shook off whatever it was. It took three people to draw a sample for her blood test and take her temperature. All her tests came out normal, her temperature was normal, there was nothing wrong with the cat! Just a little cold magnified by her human’s paranoia.

WordPress, whenever we embed video in a scheduled post, the video does not appear when the post is published. Why is that.

A Street Cat Named Bob, the true story of a cat who adopts a homeless heroin addict and turns him into a bestselling author.

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Attention: nativereader, rusticrouge, jediknight and Momelia. We owe you some books, sorry for the delay and the changing instructions. We will leave the copies at the Customer Service desk of National Bookstore in Rockwell; you can pick them up starting Friday the 15th. (Or later; we expect traffic will be hell this weekend.) Their number is 8974562.

Koosi: Do not worry. We will blog for you.
Saffy: Yes, take this down. “A screaming comes across the sky.”

Saffy: Go to sleep, you’ll feel better.
Mat: We have warmed up the pillow for you, squeeze in.

Fabia sent us this photo of a catcase bookshelf that houses books and cats.

Interesting concept, but it won’t work with our feline housemates. They will ignore anything (except for cat food and kitty litter) that’s specifically for feline use. We got them a scratching post, but they prefer to sharpen their claws on the old couch. We get them cat toys, but they would rather knock small objects off our table and play football with them.

They frequently attempt to colonize our bookshelves, but these are too narrow and crowded. Here’s Mat trying to hide behind the novels of Edward St. Aubyn and finding no room for his butt,

and Saffy taking a nap after a failed invasion of the books’ territory. Fortunately the cats don’t scratch the books, though they occasionally barf on the ones they hate.

Not this one. This is Koosi, our 13-year-old ginger cat. She hates the outdoors. Show her a patch of grass and she recoils with a look of “What the hell is that!”
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Sorry the video disappeared. WordPress has been problematic. The other night we typed a 500-word piece and hit Publish. It vanished.

Who knows why the Rome edition of the left-leaning newspaper La Repubblica decided to pick on the cat ladies just before Halloween?

A Roman Cat Fight by Massimo Gatto (his real name?) in the NYRBlog.

Once spent five days wandering Rome. Skipped the Vatican. Saw the Colosseum—no gladiators, but lots of cats. Visited Largo Argentina, which may or may not be the place where Julius Caesar was assassinated. There’s a big cat sanctuary on the site. Roman cats eat spaghetti. Our cats shun carbs.