The Beasties

It is my firm belief that a house is not a home without at least one critter of some sort to share it with. Here, we've taken that idea and run wild with it, sharing our home with five beasties who do their best to live up to that name. So, without further ado, bring on the beasties! 

This is Murphy, named for Peter Murphy, naturally.  He was adopted from the Animal Defense League in February 2011. We were looking for a smaller dog for Mum, but he perked up his ears when he saw us and it was so adorable that we had to hold him. As soon as we did, he licked everyone on the cheek and that was the end of our search. 

The last dog we'd all had was a spaniel named Paws, who loved car rides, never bothered the cats, and never ever barked unless there was a stranger at the door.  Murphy becomes ill on even short car rides, constantly attempts to play with the cats despite their protests, and barks at everything. And nothing. He's spoiled, he's defiant, and sometimes it seems he never learns. He's also the most loyal and loving dog one could ever ask for. He's the best nurse dog when I'm sick, he gives the best hugs and I would not trade him for all the well-behaved, quiet dogs on earth. 

Murphy looking at the rain clouds, thinking deep thoughts. 

As best we can recall, Suki is thirteen years old. She was born of a stray at my grandmother's house just before it was sold and my Aunt Beverly, having long wanted a white cat, decided to keep her. Now you might. be thinking, "White cat? But this cat is some sort of Siamese-calico hybrid." Yes, yes she is. She was indeed a white kitten when my aunt first brought her home. But over the first year of her life, dark spots started to appear on her fur until she was transformed into the calico-white-Siamese she is today. 

Suki was anti-social and disliked nearly everyone except my aunt, so when we would come to visit, she'd run and hide. When my aunt died, my parents inherited Suki and her "sister" Mischa by default, as no one else was able or willing to take them both on. She's become much more social over the years though she can still be a bit of a snob. Unless there are table scraps involved. She loves scraps.  

Mischa has been through a lot in her eight or nine years. Mischa came to live with my aunt through a series of odd events. While my aunt was out of town, her catsitter let one of her cats, a raggedy old man named Mr. B, outside for a bit and when he had not returned after an entire day, she assumed the worst. Overwhelmed with guilt, she decided to adopt another cat for my aunt, a "consolidation cat", if you will. And thus, Mischa was brought into my aunt's home. 

Before her adoption, Mischa was in no fewer than four other homes, each of them having returned her for behaviour unbecoming of.a cat, or any creature living with other living beings. Indeed, she was a poorly socialised cat with a penchant for chewing on things. Things like walls. Whole chunks of walls. But my aunt never gave up on her. And neither did my parents when they took her in upon my aunt's passing. When I first moved home, bringing my cats along with me, I thought for certain Mischa and Wednesday would kill each other. But everyone survived and these days Mischa is a much more mellow cat who prefers sleeping and purring to starting brawls and eating walls. 

Oh my sweet little Jasper who was rescued from the clutches of death! My cousin, seeing that a truck was about to back over this tiny little kitten, dove to the ground to rescue him. Once she had him in her hands, she knew she couldn't turn him loose on the streets, but she couldn't keep him either. Thankfully my the-fiance and I were looking for another kitten at the time. I made immediate plans to pick him up from San Antonio. From the moment we met, he was my little baby. He let me hold him for long periods of time without fussing. He would sit on my shoulder while I watched television or used the computer and would curl up right beside me for long naps. He's five now and much more independent, but he is still a sweetheart and will always be my little ginger baby. 

My precious Wednesday is often referred to as a "bear trap with fur" due to the above pose, which only seems harmless. In February 2005 on a cold and rainy night in Austin, as my ex and I were leaving our apartment, we heard from above the very loud cries of a kitten. I looked up and there was a tiny grey ball of fluff looking down at me. We took her in immediately and though I put up fliers in case she did belong to someone and had gotten loose, I was relieved when no one responded. She has always been fiesty, bordering on feral, but that is what I love most about her. Age has mellowed her only slightly. She is my little warrior princess, with a loud, shrill scream to match. When Wednesday is the one meowing, you will not mistake her for any of the other cats!

All of our beasties have quite a bit of personality and they keep things in this house interesting. There is always someone making noise or running or jumping off of something. There is always fur on everything. And I for one would not have it any other way. 

How about you, darklings? Any pets? 

Jasper and Wednesday nap on the window seat.

Feeding time

What were they looking at? Not a clue. Cats do the oddest thing. 

A Spooky Home is a Happy Home: Selected Art Pieces

When my aunt was diagnosed with cancer, she made it clear that she wanted her much-loved home to remain in the family if possible. My parents were looking to move soon themselves and so my aunt left the house to my mum. She passed away in October of 2008. 

It's a lovely home, built in the early eighties. Of course, it was also decorated in the eighties; so while the house itself is lovely, the choice of wall colours was far less appealing. Cornflower blue walls in the living room with a muave-and-cornflower fireplace. The master bedroom was painted a colour I dubbed mauvegenta. The walls in most of the other rooms were butter yellow. There was carpet in every room except for the kitchen. Have you ever seen carpet in a bathroom? I have. 

Above the fireplace hanged a really awful, vaguely Pollock-esque piece of popart chock full of greys, mauves, tans, and blues. My uncle, who had passed before my aunt, had some interesting tastes in decor,  to say the least. Needless to say, there was a lot of work to be done before the move.

Just as Mum and Dad were clearing out the last of my aunt's belongings and beginning remodeling, my then-relationship of nearly eight years came to an end. I left Austin, the city that had been my home for almost seven years, and headed back to San Antonio to stay with my parents. I had initially imagined my stay with my parents would be temporary, until I got back on my feet. But as we began picking paint colours and faucets and light fixtures, we all knew this would be my home too, for years to come. 

Over the next nearly two years, while I went through quite a lot of emotional changes, the remodel became a way to sort through those feelings, to express myself, and to channel my energies. Especially the kitchen. The kitchen was my pet project. What began as butter yellow walls and slate grey, vinyl-coated cabinets became voodoo green walls and black-painted cabinets. It took me weeks as I tried various ways to refinish the cabinets. Each time I failed, I had to clean up what I'd done and start at square one.  It was long and physically challenging work, but it was my project.  When they were complete, even with their flaws, I was quite possibly more proud of those cabinets than I had been of any project I'd ever done before. I put my heart and soul into that kitchen.  We all put our hearts and souls into making this house, home, even the friends who came to help paint. There are still details to be attended to, some things left to be done. But each time I look at the walls, the cabinets, the carefully selected fixtures, I smile. This house is itself a love story. 

The point of this rambling was to introduce my home and tell its story, as I plan on showing you different aspects of it in upcoming posts. At any rate, tonight I meant to focus on the art in our living room/foyer. 

Mum and I picked this out together. We both love it for the same reason. It's a simple painting, just some trees. Nothing frightening and yet the essence of the piece is subtly spooky, evoking a feeling of otherworldliness or perhaps of being in a place out of time. 

This is the piece that will soon hang in the foyer adjacent to the living room. It was found in the attic of my parents' old home. We're not certain who it belonged to or how old it is, but I knew it would fit in well here.The frame needs to be redone as it is currently brown and we want black. I love that it too has a subtly spooky feel to it despite being just a simple depiction of an owl. Both are the same tone of sepia bordering on black and white. 

Now that the trees are in place and the owl will be in place soon, we've begun thinking of our next piece, the piece that will hang above the fireplace.  We want the new piece to have the same feel - nothing frightening and yet, a subtle spookiness, a slight creepiness that you cannot quite place.  And in the same sepia, nearly black and white tone.  A depiction of an old house seems the perfect fit. I know so many talented artists that when the time comes I think finding someone to take on the project should be fairly easy. It will be a fairly large piece. For now, I've begun looking at "inspiration material" and that in itself is fun. 

House on the Hill by Thomas Young

This one and the one above are two of my favourite that I've found whilst searching for inspiration. 

I look forward to the day we can get started on this piece and all of the art I'll fill the house with in the future. 

Until next time, darklings!