Cats and Wine (Or Wine and Cats).

So two of my favorite things on this planet are (it’s not a trick question):

Cats and Wine. Or Wine and Cats. The order flip-flops any given hour, depending on my mood at that moment.

And sometimes, on that wonderful rare occasion, the two cross over. Like in this amazing magnet a friend gave me for Christmas this year:

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Yes. That would be my answer.

Or this Riesling, that I originally got because it had a picture of a cat on it, but wound up loving it, regardless of said cat label:

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Delicious, with or without cat.

I really do love this wine, and I recently purchased it again, because it has become one of my favorite go-to bottles. So, I was sitting at the table, enjoying my glass, when Captain Curious (aka “Berlioz”), jumped up to investigate. And by “investigate,” I mean eat whatever possible food he came across. There was no food this time, but I guess he, like his mama, is fond of Riesling. In fact, after sniffing the bottle and my glass, he decided that this wine was from this point on, his and his alone.

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Note the tail wrapped around the glass. 

Either that, or he’s just a little ham who wanted his picture taken….again.

 

Cats in Wine Boxes.

I love wooden wine boxes. Whenever I find a cool one, I bring it home. I don’t always have an immediate use for them, so sometimes there are small stacks of them around the house. The cats love them equally as much as I do. Whenever I put one down, they jump in, so when I got my hands on a really cool one that formerly housed Opus One, I decided to convert into a high class bed for my fancy felines.

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I also scored a really dainty Jadot box, that is the perfect size for a kitten. I brought it home, put it down, but the kitten was no where to be found. Instead, this happened.

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Again.

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And again.

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Finally, she allowed him entry into the box.

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But not for long….

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Big sister is watching you. And that box, just like all the other boxes, is hers, and hers alone.

 

We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. ― George Orwell, 1984