Leopold and Emma

Today I drove home from work and wasn't in a bad mood at all. I was enthusiastic about my plans for the evening (actually nothing special but at the moment I'm trying to be enthusiastic even about "normal" things and to enjoy my everyday life). However, I had to do the shopping first and an undefinable slimy something on the handle of my shopping cart (which of course, I only noticed when I grabbed the cart and touched it) "made my day". Even my little emergency disinfectant in my handbag and the baby wipes I purchased while desperately trying not to freak out couldn't lift my spirit again.
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

Emma