I'm just finishing a book called Homer's Odyssey about a tiny blind, black cat. Blind, you say? Right after birth and abandonment,his eyes became so infected the vet to whom the kitten was taken had to surgically remove them, then stitch his lids shut. And how does one find anyone willing to take a tiny blind kitten? Gwen Cooper, the author, saw him and was so soft-hearted she took him. And Homer, named for the blind Greek poet, turned out to be almost totally unaffected by his blindness. You'd have to be a cat lover to fully appreciate this story, the strange and wonderful things Homer does despite his blindness. We have two cats now, after a long series of cats during our lifetimes, and although neither of them is as brave or sensitive as Homer, we think they're pretty special.
Here's Dusty, looking guilty about my finding him sleeping on some towels on our washer. Well, not really guilty, since he can pretty much do whatever he wants.
Squeakie, whenever she sees an open suitcase, assumes she's going to be able to go along with us, even though she'd really hate a plane ride in a suitcase.