Black Cats

Even after we kept our July 4th decorations up through the end of the Olympics, it seemed like a long, empty stretch of a house without decoration.  But, similar to fog, fall decorations come in on little cat feet, or at least with little cat feet.

I found the bag of bats that I cut out of poster board a few years ago, so they’re back up and taunting Panther.  Jetty is old enough now (5) that she’s too content sleeping 23 hours a day in our room to worry about anything dangling from a string that might need to be pounced.

Shortly after finding Bolivar, our first pet together, Trent and I learned that black cats are the least likely to be adopted from a shelter because people still associate them with superstitions and scariness.  That’s crazy, they’re wonderful, sleek, and tantalizingly aloof.  Well, aloof unless they’re kittens, in which case they like to sleep right on your shoulder and bite your arms.  But I like to let my mind wander in October and start wondering what they’re cooking up, what witchy plans they are making…even though the reality is that they’re too busy sleeping on my bed (Jetty) or shredding every piece of upholstered furniture in the house (Panther) to be casting spells.  And also, that’s not real.  But, on Halloween night, when they’re locked up in our bedroom to keep them safe on the most dangerous night of the year for a black cat, I have to wonder:  what are they doing up there…?

It’s a great month for imagining.

I’m working on finishing a few more crafts for the upcoming craft fair, but sometimes after I make something, I can’t seem to let it go.  I made these spiders during the bits of the Democratic National Convention that I watched on tv (I’m sensing a pattern involving election year and my bag of felt scraps.)  Now I’m attached and can’t try to sell them.  They’re in love.

And I made a wreath.  There’s not much to say about that, so, ta-da.

I’m dedicating this post to all the black cats I’ve loved and lost:  Friday, Thursday, and Bolivar, shine on.