Luckily, there is one thing which most of the time guarantees that I return home with a smile on my face: my cats.
I have two cats, a female cat named Emma and a male, Leopold.
Emma is six years old, a tabby cat, usually looks very elegant but swears like a trooper when she's hungry. Leopold, two years old, on the other hand has a voice like Liza Minelli (that's why we sometimes call him Liza, too), resembles a cotton ball and has a somewhat autistic look.
I can't understand why some people call cats evil - yes, they are egocentric and I am sure Emma would willingly desert me for a piece of ham but still they are adorable, and funny, and cuddly, and mysterious, and I just melt away when they give me that intense look and slowly start to blink.
When I come home from work, I open the door and usually two cats jump out into the staircase, their tails pointing up into the air, they sound a happy "Miau" (German for "Meow/Miaow") and then follow me inside. A perfect welcome and one that even makes you forget the snot on the shopping cart.
|Leopold and Emma|
|Leo a.k.a. Liza a.k.a. Cotton Ball|