a day in the so-called life


























Driveway at sunset.  We're not sure why the sun appears to be setting in the south.  Nothing out there but frozen soybeans and coyotes. 

Grass is still green, but, with luck, will die come spring.


Sparky on the desk, doing his Maltese Falcon shtick.

Sparky as a child.  His original name was Claude, but that just seemed to be encouraging him.
Pokey grazing near the shed where the groundhogs live.

Pokey and her dictionaries.  Pokey has the worst posture ever seen in a vertebrate.

Brownie chasing a rabbit.  The rabbit always wins.

Brownie as a child. 

Brownie now has an extensive vocabulary and is  deathly afraid of a squeaky green plastic pickle I keep on a shelf in my office.  Merely speaking the word "pickle" in the kitchen, for example, will send Brownie scurrying out of the room.

Pokey doesn't care about pickles and only responds to two words: "dog food."

Brownie and Pokey in the Holiday Pageant several years ago.

Pokey is smiling because we gave up on her antlers after she tried to eat them for the third time.

Dawn.  Also 14 below zero.  Fuhgeddaboudit.

Sparky sitting on radios again.

If you find yourself trolling the net looking for pictures of cats sitting on radios, you will enjoy the customer cats page at Universal Radio, a fine bunch of folks in Reynoldsburg, Ohio.

Rainbow landing on the farm across the road.

No pot of gold.  I looked.





All contents Copyright 2004 by Evan Morris.