Cats

I don't like cats. Why? Several reasons.

First of all, when I was a child I liked cats a lot. Then I went thru puberty and became allergic. Instead of being angry at the betrayal of my body, I chose to despise cats.

Secondly, they always rub against your legs, and I'm not so good with the "animals rubbing themselves on me" thing. (Let that be a warning to all dogs out there as well)

Thirdly, even smart cats are dumb. Like the neighbor cat who I continually rescue from my garage that insists on trying to scratch me when all I'm doing is helping her find her way home.

Although I must say the occasional cat provides unbelievable comic relief. My sister's last cat, Hobbes, would randomly strike out at whoever was passing by. I giggle remembering him swiping at Maile as she walked into the house. I laugh out loud at her evasive maneuver to avoid said swiping which ended up looking more like she had some weird hitch in her git along. You might have had to be there, but hoowee, it was funny!

Because of this prejudice againsts cats, I tend to hate anything that even has cats on it. Subconciously I think it will make me sneeze. But on my monthly homage to Good Will, I found these babies!

Are they not the freakin-ist, coolest bookends you have ever seen? They remind of those clocks that keep time by having the cats eyes move left right, left right, left right. They will soon have a place of honor somewhere in this house. I love them, I love them, I love them! They are wicked cool.

1.wick·ed ; a term used primarily in New England. To add emphasis. ie: those pants are wicked cool, your hair is wicked awesome, I was wicked full.

Now, finding a smashingly good place for them. Somewhere my children can see them and love them, talk to them and place their favorite books in between. I want them to love the cats so much that they all will fight over who gets the cat bookends when I die.

Aaahh, such a lovely thought.