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The untimely death of mr. thunderpaws was due to…well, let’s spare the details. Tragic news.  Simo-face, we will miss your dog-like ways of comforting us, watching over the house and those in it, your squeaky voice, and belly-up cat stretches in the sun.  Thanks for the gifts of live chipmunks, mice, even a snake once, and always you never had the heart to actually kill them.  They always lived, and always ran back into the woods.  Everyone on the street will miss your patrol, and visits.



Hmmm…what can I pounce on next? (cue evil cat laugh) That yummy catnip that jojo gave ixi is the best thing ever! Oh boy! I bet she got it in Amsterdam. I think I’ll terrorize simon then maybe bat my paws at invisible ghost flies, and then put a few more tears in the not so new sofa, and huh, how about knocking over some pencils onto the ground. Oh and ixi’s socks!, I can hide them in the litter, good idea!



How can Zoe’s tongue be bigger than Kujo’s over there?  How cute is this picture?


I look at this and think …. awwww… a mommy deer and her two little ones! Adorable. But then I think, oh well there goes my hostas. And then, hey wow dj did such a great job on the lawn I should hire him again, but gee, I wonder when I need to water it and seed it. Hmm dunno, have no idea. After a few more seconds, gah my house is falling apart!, I need new windows!, wonder if that leak over the stairs will just go away? And just like that, a sweet nature scene turns into full scale home ownership panic.

Recent Zoe cuteness.


images-3.jpegAs I was placing my happy yellow coffee mug on my shelf as I do every night before I leave work, I noticed the inmistakable signs of another presence in the library. It has been said, and even published in a book, that Music Hall is haunted. And while I described to friends this presence as being a fourth librarian, I knew that it wasn’t a friendly but possibly helpful ghost – I knew what it was. A mouse. I don’t really mind them, maybe because of a touching story about nicknames my grandparents had for each other, or that they have fur which definitely makes them more likable than insects and reptiles. While my colleagues were feeling perhaps a different emotion about our guest, I decided to name him Hobart after the first librarian of the CSO. I don’t think Hobart will be around much longer, which is a shame because we could use some excitment these days – although not if he’s anything like the subway rats I’ve seen in NYC.


In one of Ixi’s first photo sites, she had this photo posted with “Simon’s paws are fat and cute” and indeed they are. They have to be, in order to support his prowling gait which you can hear all over the house. If you sit still long enough, it sounds as if someone is plodding around, very slowly and deliberately. I have on more than one occasion mistaken his foot noise for the Bean’s. If there’s one thing I like, it’s a male that knows where he’s going, even if it is to the water bowl. I guess we still consider him male, though his meow, by far the girliest of all of the cats we’ve ever cared for, often betrays him.


In my time here in Cincinnati, there is someone else with whom I’ve spent almost equal time, and that would be, of course, Zoe. To clear up confusion, Zoe is a dog, a boxer specifically. We often refer to her as Zoe-love, Zoboo, Zoboolina, among others. She doesn’t live at Priscilla Lane (officially) since her actual owner is Mr. Richie Hawley. We spend a good deal of time with her since RH tends to peace out of the ‘Nati most chances he gets. A sweet dog, sometimes quite simple, but we sure do love her and couldn’t imagine life without her, because, well, that would make going to the dog park slightly awkward.

February 2020
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