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Welcome to Caterpickles! Come meet your hosts...
And of course, Caterpickles’ very own Official Junior Photojournalist: The Five-Year-Old Howell
As The Five-Year-Old would say, let’s have a conversation…
Email me at shalahowell (at) gmail (dot) com. Or find me on Facebook, Goodreads, or Twitter: @shalahowell.Classic Caterpickles
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Tag Archives: Mulberry the Cat
Classic Caterpickles: “Why can’t cats drink milk?”
I need a day to catch up on some things. You know what that means… Time for a Classic Caterpickle. For a girl obsessed with cats, The Four-Year-Old is oddly indifferent to the Disney movie The Aristocats. I suspect this … Continue reading
Snap out of it, Mommyo!
Another in my backlog of Mulberry posts: On the drive home from putting our cat Mulberry down last March, Mommyo, plaintively: “I don’t think I’m going to post on Caterpickles for a while.” The (then) Four-Year-Old, with great distress: “But … Continue reading
Posted in Funny Stuff My Daughter Says
Tagged Cozy the Cat, grief, losing a pet, Mulberry the Cat
1 Comment
It makes me feel old when you say stuff like that
Remember when I said I had a backlog of Mulberry-related incidents to work through? Here’s another one. The (then) Four-Year-Old, rubbing Mulberry, our seventeen-year-old cat just above the eyes: “You’ve lost the fur right here. And here.” Pause, then in … Continue reading
Posted in Funny Stuff My Daughter Says
Tagged aging, cats, fur loss, Mulberry the Cat
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How The Five-Year-Old helped me understand the Victorian practice of posing with their dead
Earlier this week while doing some of the never-ending research for my novel-in-progress, Asylum, I came across memento mori, the Victorian practice of posing their dead for photographs. At first, I labeled this as just one more in a long … Continue reading
Posted in Miscellaneous Musings
Tagged grief, loss, memento mori, Mulberry the Cat, photography, Victorians
3 Comments
When School Vacations Go Bad
Another in my backlog of Mulberry posts… Scene: I’m sitting on the couch enjoying a few minutes of down time during Thanksgiving break, when The Five-Year-Old walked into the playroom, blue scissors in hand, and said, “Mom, the cat fur … Continue reading



