Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
I took this picture of the brothers on the same day as the previous picture of Trixie and also edited them at the same time. I decided I also prefer this one in black-and-white, even though I don’t dislike the color version, which is so rare for me I began to wonder if something hadn’t broken in my brain.
On Sunday rain and cooler weather arrived for a few days, not only drenching western Oregon with desperately needed rain but helping fire crews deal with the Eagle Creek Fire ravaging the Columbia River Gorge. But the day prior smoke from the fires increased throughout the day in Portland, to the point that I stayed inside and didn’t even let Ellie go out for her evening walk. Late in the day, with the sun colored red by the smoke, I noticed an interesting pattern of shadows on my wall. As I photographed it I looked to my right and saw the Cat Signal on the far wall, a silhouette of Boo atop the cat tree.
My eyes play tricks again. There on the mantle, beside my work awards and the ashes of Templeton and Scout and Emma and pictures and keepsakes, I thought I saw Boo. But Boo isn’t allowed on the mantle. Some things from the mantle have fallen off lately and broken, likely from micro-climates creating sudden whirlwinds that come down the chimney. That I can explain, that I can see. But Boo I cannot, yet I do.
Boo watches a dog across the street as a heavy snow continues to fall during our snowstorm in January.
Our resident philosopher forms the yin (dark) and yang (light) symbol in his pursuit of enlightenment. A diligent pursuit, he spent hours in this state of quiet reflection.
I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
Whose golden eyes peer out from the door? Ah, it’s the handsome Mr. Boo!
Boo and I have developed a morning ritual, he comes in and sleeps on my legs when I sit down for breakfast, then steals my spot when I get up.
Boolie 