The Month of the Cat continues apace here. In addition to our five beasts, we have George visiting for a couple of weeks and we're now officially in charge of taking care of Anna and Raul's--they're our downstairs neighbors--two kittycats while they're away on vacation. That's eight. This is certainly a cathouse we're running here.

Back when we had only four beasts, before we got Oscar, I named this apartment "Els Quatre Gats" after the famous Boho bar where Casas and Rusinyol and Picasso and the boys used to hang out. In Catalan (and in Spanish) "four cats" means "you and me and the lamppost"--that is, just a few unimportant folks. Only four cats, the avant-garde Boho art dudes, hung out there, which is one reason it closed down like a hundred years ago. There is now a bar called "Els Quatre Gats" located on the same street as the original bar, but in a different (though Modernista) building. To my knowledge there is no connection between the historic and the actual places but the name. The existent bar is a perfectly decent place, though rather touristy. Still, these folks are tourists who know who Picasso was and therefore deserve credit for having heard of and wanting to visit the namesake of the bar he designed the menu cover for, his famous first paid job. These people are not morons, and hanging out where they hang out is officially declared Non-Cheesy. Especially since it stays open late.

It is also officially declared Non-Cheesy to go to the Cafe Moka on the Ramblas, where barricaded government soldiers had a stand-off with Orwell's POUM militia, who were up on the roof of the Tabacos de Filipinas building across the street.