I am not making any attempts at reconstructing the cat boys' long weekend simply because I cannot do it. It suffices to say that it was cat delight, the boys did whatever their little hearts desired. For Augustus, the Precious, it culminated last night with a live mouse hunt. The neighbors down the street may be missing a mouse today. And Ollie, gave me a double nuzzle session last night. Once to rub his Ollie scent on my face after I had thoroughly cleansed and moisturized, and once at 4 a.m., to remind me that 'he' is the Precious one! Here are a few photos from our little babes...
Love little gussy Gus here, so slanky and perky!
And here are a few patio shots, August enjoying this day as I read to him the closing pages of 'The Gatsby'. Aaaah! Delightful read!
Let's not forget little Ollie, he too likes to listen to the ending of The Gatsby! Perhaps he just doesn't want to be left out.
And more Ollie!
And finally, a tired Ollie, in repose!
And as I was thinking of how our eyes love to see these furry dudes around and about I was reminded of the great Persian poetess Tahirih, one of whose titles was 'Solace of the Eyes', and so we read her famous poem, "Point to Point". Incidentally, reading about Tahirih is a must for every woman as she represents the beginning of the emancipation movement in the East in 1800s and sadly, she was killed for her beliefs in 1852.
If I met you face to face, I
would retrace—erase!—my heartbreak,
pain by pain,
ache by ache,
word by word,
point by point.
In search of you—just your face!—I
roam through the streets lost in disgrace,
house to house,
lane to lane,
place to place,
door to door.
My heart hopeless—broken, crushed!—I
heard it pound, till blood gushed from me,
fountain by fountain,
stream by stream,
river by river,
sea by sea.
The garden of your lips—your cheeks!—
your perfumed hair, I wander there,
bloom to bloom,
rose to rose,
petal to petal,
scent to scent.
Your eyebrow—your eye!—and the mole
on your face, somehow they tie me,
trait to trait,
kindness to kindness,
passion to passion,
love to love.
While I grieve, with love—your love!—I
will reweave the fabric of my soul,
stitch by stitch,
thread by thread,
warp by warp,
woof by woof.
Last, I—Táhirih—searched my heart, I
looked line by line. What did I find?
You and you,
you and you,
you and you.
May your eyes be pleased today, all day,,,,