Pettibon.

Petite bon. Pretty bon. Small good. Pretty good.

And then came Leni--at least that is what I am calling her--the cat with one hundred names. Mitch calls her Pettibon (which is good too). I saw her a few weeks ago lounging atop a mountain of old red luggage in the window display of this pretty vintage shop in my neighborhood. I was out with Leo at the time and we stopped dead when I saw her staring back at me. This shop is run by a kind woman with kind friends. They all have kind eyes and they all foster cats (because there are a million on the loose in this town). It is nice to know a lot of these creatures have warm homes and full bellies because people open their personal homes and shops. I like the concept. This little thing is called Katie at the moment, but it really isn't her. She looks tough, even though she is small and long. She has medium length hair in dark dark grey with a light grey bit that hides underneath like a mystery. Mitch and I walked to Bernard Street to pay her and Dadette (the foster mama) a visit in and amongst the million wool sweaters and long skirts and hats. She liked us and we were approved.

We might have a cat soon! I am excited; this self proclaimed despiser of felines. I am very excited to watch her slink around the growing mountain of long bodies, half stuffed limbs and thread for miles. She'll like it here I think.