这样的自己

现在的我

距离理想中的自己

还有一段很遥远的距离。

但是，我开始认为

这样的自己

其实也不差。

——奥黛丽.赫本



≪角落小夥伴 名言≫ 24
San-X 监修
ISBN 978-986-5728-99-1

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貓咪棉被行

貓咪棉被行

猫咪准备过冬
棉被行七手八脚
忙着为客人弹一床好被

弹好的棉被套上大花布
搬上阁楼晒太阳
阁楼有个不能说
大家却都知道的秘密

中午时分 小窗开了个缝
偷偷摸摸地
猫一只接一只钻进来
他们都知道
棉被店是睡午觉的天堂
晒得暖烘烘的新被子
蓬松蓬松
钻进被窝心里去
变成猫咪卷心酥
光听起来就麻酥酥

最后 卖出去的每床棉被
都沾满了路猫甲的毛
搞得客人很毛

≪浮世猫绘≫ 34页
猫小姐 著
ISBN 978-986-262-224-7

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阿猫水果店

阿猫水果店

阿猫水果店
有很多不支薪的工读生
他们争先恐后来面试
自愿为老板服务
为的是一只又一只
睡到饱的纸箱

樱桃口味　芒果口味　西瓜口味
小颗粒　中颗粒　大颗粒
堆满水粿的箱子里
挤得喵啊浑身舒畅

五颗八十元　一斤三十元
吆喝着吆喝着
一不留神就眯眯眼
打盹的打盹
发呆的发呆
哪儿找到这么舒适的活儿

≪浮世猫绘≫ 34页
猫小姐 著
ISBN 978-986-262-224-7

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生命中的老树

生命中的老树

每只猫咪的生命中
都有一棵老树
老猫咪对孙辈说故事
总是从一棵老树说起

那是他们还年轻的时候
老树包容他们一切的幼稚与疯狂
在树上荡秋千
在树上恶作剧
在树上认识新朋友
在树上失去理智地恋爱

直到他们变成
再也爬不上老树的猫咪
树下依然是
他们最爱乘凉的地方

≪浮世猫绘≫ 20页
猫小姐 著
ISBN 978-986-262-224-7

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Boodabim

　　Who is Boodabim?

　　... ...

　　... ...

　　Is Boodabim a little butterfly?

　　... ...

　　... ...

Boodabim, P
story and pictures by Alankrita Jain
ISBN 978-93-5046-139-6

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Run, Dave, Run!

　　"So you see, Dave," said Dad, "the dinosaurs are indeed dead."

　　"Then why is that one following us, Dad?"

Are the Dinosaurs Dead, Dad?
Julie Middleton, illustrated by Russell Ayto
ISBN 978-0-522-56366-6

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My Favorite Memories

　　"What are we doing?" Lily yawns and nuzzles into me again. The night air is warm and still.

　　We're creating a memory.”

　　“Why?”

　　I don't tell her why. The answer is I need it. I need this memory to hold on to if my plan fails and she is no longer there.

　　“Because sometimes it's nice to have memories. Don't you have any favorite memories?”

　　Lily thinks about this. "All of my memories are my favorite memories."

　　I'm amazed by this. "Even the bad ones?"

　　"Dogs don't remember bad memories." Envious, I scratch her on the velvet part of her chest. What an incredible way to live."

Lily and the Octopus, P187
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2

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Death is a Unique Opponent

　　“What's your favorite thing about tattoos?” It's such an amateur question, something a third-grader might ask while interviewing him for some school project, although I don't know what school would assign a project on tattoo artists. Maybe a charter school, or a Montessori.

　　"Their permanence," Kal says.

　　"But now there's laser removal."

　　Kal shrug. "It still leaves a scar. Like a ghost." He looks deeper into me than anyone has in a long time.

　　"But eventually we die, and the flesh rots away."

　　Kal smiles at me with unwavering eye contact. It's unnerving, or at least I am unnerved.

　　 “Let me guess, people leave ghosts, too.”

　　“You're scared. That's normal for first timers."

　　I don't recall mentioning that this is my first time, and I'm fully clothed, and so he can't possibly see that I am unmarked, but he knows. “I'm scared. But not about the needles or the pain or regret."

　　"About what, then?"

　　"About memorializing someone who isn't gone. That I'm giving up the battle. That I'm surrendering in war.” I can hear Jenny tell me to say what I really mean. I carry my thesis further. “Afraid of death, I guess. And, maybe for the first time, of my own mortality."

　　"Death is a unique opponent, in that death always wins." Kal offers a small hiccup of a shrug, as if this is of little significance. "There's no shame in surrender when it's time to stop fighting."

　　... ...

Lily and the Octopus, P179-180
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2

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Because Dogs Live in the Present

　　“Do you want water? You can drink mine.” I indicate the glass of water I always keep on the nightstand.

　　Lily shakes her head no.

　　“I'm so sorry,” I say. “For all those other nights.”

　　“Wh-y-y-y-y?” The panting continues.

　　And this makes me cry even harder. All those nights she had no idea that I went to bed angry at her. Or if she had known, she has forgotten. Because dogs live in the present. Because dogs don’t hold grudges. Because dogs let go of all of their anger daily, hourly, and never let it fester. They absolve and forgive with each passing minute. Every turn of a corner is the opportunity for a clean slate. Every bounce of a ball brings joy and the promise of a fresh chase.

　　She wants to know why I'm sorry. I don't want to tell her about my anger. I don't want to tarnish my image in her eyes. Not now. Not with the octopus listening.

　　So when I respond, I lie.

　　“Because I'm going to have to give you a bath.”

Lily and the Octopus, P133-134
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2

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All of the Anger is Gone

　　I think of all the nights when Lily failed to pee on our bedtime walks. How much stress this would cause me. How difficult it was on those nights to fall asleep, to stay asleep, frustrated that I might have to take her to the yard in the darkness of predawn. So many arguments this caused between us. I always thought I knew better when it came to her needing to pee, but until this night she had never once actually wet the bed. And now that she has, we just lie there in the accident and the minutes on the clock keep changing and the love I have for her keeps growing and we both keep drawing breath.

　　What was so horrible about it?

　　Why had I always had been so angry?

　　What was with my need to be right? To win every argument with her? To outstubborn a dog?

　　And just like that, all of the anger is gone. Released, like the empty of a bladder, into soft cotton sheets as we lie in the wetness.

Lily and the Octopus, P133
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2

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Enclosed World Syndrome

　　As Lily aged and her reactions slowed and her eyesight became less crispy, Doogie's predecessor warned me that she might develop something he called Enclosed World Syndrome. I told him I hadn't heard of Enclosed World Syndrome, only New World Syndrome (the introduction of a modern, sedentary lifestyle to indigenous people, along with obesity, diabetes, and heart disease —— you're welcome, Native Americans.) I don't know if Enclosed World Syndrome is an official syndrome or something this vet made up, or who is even in charge of anointing syndromes officially. But Lily did rather quickly come to find comfort only in smaller and smaller concentric circles with our house at the center and, coincidentally, so did I. Or maybe Lily's aging coincide with the end of my relationship with Jeffrey and the stalling of my writing career. "How's Jeffrey?" "How's the writing going?" These were the questions that had irritated me to my core. Not because of their illegitimacy, but because I had no response. How was Jeffrey? We can't go two days without fighting. How was the writing? I haven't written anything in months. It became easier to avoid people than to have to explain that I was struggling. My Enclosed World Syndrome got a little better, partly out of necessity, when I became single again. Lily's never did.

Lily and the Octopus, P127-128
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2

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Stitch Together all the Gaps in Our Lives

　　To focus, I think of how dogs are witness. How they are present for our most private moments, how they are there when we think of ourselves as alone. They witness our quarrels, our tears, our struggles, our fears, and all of our secret behaviors that we have to hide from our fellow humans. They witness without judgment. There was a book once about a man who tried to teach his dog to speak a human language to help him solve his wife's murder. It said that if dogs could tell us all they have seen, it would magically stitch together all the gaps in our lives. I try to witness this moment how a dog would witness it. To take it all in. For the rest of my family, this wedding will be a gap in their lives, and I need to do my best to fill it.

Lily and the Octopus, P80
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2

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For I am a God

　　Someone once said give a dog food and shelter and treats and they think you are a god, but give a cat the same they think they are god.

　　We shared the rest of that ice-cream cone, for I am a god.

Lily and the Octopus, P36
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2

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There were no Limits

　　In my twenties, I had another terrible therapist (therapists!) who concluded that since my mother never says “I love you” (at least not in the same way that other mothers do), there was going to be a limit to my ability to feel love. Love for someone, loved by someone. I was limited. And then on the very last night of my twenties, when I held my new puppy in my arms. I broke down in tears. Because I had fallen in love. Not in a limited amount. I fell fully in love with the creature I had known for all of nine hours.

　　I remember Lily licking the tears from my face.

　　THIS! EYE! RAIN! YOU! MAKE! IS! FANTASTIC! I! LOVE! THE! SALTY! TASTE! YOU! SHOULD! MAKE! THIS! EVERY! DAY!

　　The realization was overwhelming —— there was nothing wrong with me! There were no limits to what I could feel!

Lily and the Octopus, P22
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2

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