Cats In Cardigans Other Attire

Cats in Sweaters is a collection of photographs of cats in sweaters featuring adorable biographies of each cat.

The only thing better than a cat? A cat in a sweater. Cats in Sweaters is a charming collection of photographs featuring felines modeling their favorite knits coupled with bios that highlight their quirky "purrsonalities." Raise your paws, claws, and whiskers 'cause it's about to get crazy cute! Snuggly, ladylike, silly, and festive—all kinds of cute are represented. Among the fabulous felines you'll fall for: Felix (nickname: Hunk O' Love): Despite a black belt in karate and a king's wardrobe of bedazzled sweaters, this tender tiger can cuddle, snuggle, and wrap you in a hug before you can say "Suspicious Minds." #elvis4ever Codie (favorite TV show: Portlandia): Unafraid to get in touch with her inner fashionista, Codie enjoys shopping for vintage clothes and drinking herbal tea. #grrrls Topaz (cat-chprase: "All good things come with sprinkles!"): This picture-perfect Pinterest dessert is the cutest cupcake you'll ever find. Ready to decorate with mason jars and DIY your wedding, Topaz is a pretty pinner looking for love amongst the crumbs. #pinterestgrl Nikko (favorite song: anything on vinyl): Smart and serious, Nikko is ready to have a Starbucks peppermint latte and discuss the New York Times op-ed page. In his downtime, he's all about Game of Thrones. #nyhipster Surrendering to the sweetness and snuggles is your only choice.

A girl struggling to fit in. A homeless kitten. An unexpected job offer in an unfamiliar country that changes everything. CJ had a long history of escaping places and people she wasn't fond of. But for the sake of a silver tabby, she decided to stay in Japan for a while. This decision helped her open up her heart and mind, revisit her way of thinking, and reconnect with her estranged family. Let this heartwarming memoir take you to the land of cats and cherry trees as you read about CJ's adventures - from the craziness of the naked men festival, the experience of forest bathing and the significance of finding a life purpose or ikigai, to the temples of Takayama, and wonders of Cat Island - you'll see what a homeless kitten found outside a temple in Japan taught her about an old culture and new beginnings

New York Times bestselling author Carolyn Hart presents the story of a woman with a curious ability that drops her headfirst into a world of intrigue and murder. Since her fiancé’s death, Nela Farley has been plagued by a sixth sense: She understands the thoughts of cats. In desperate need of a distraction, Nela agrees to substitute for her sister, Chloe, at her job for a charitable foundation. Chloe has even arranged a place for her sister to stay. But when Nela encounters the previous tenant’s cat, she gets a flash of thought: “...dead and gone...She loved me...skateboard on the step...” Nela wants to ignore what the cat saw, but the idea that the death of former tenant Marian Grant wasn’t an accident is something she can’t ignore. And when a detective becomes suspicious of Nela’s sister and a second murder occurs, Nela realizes she’ll have to make the most of her unwanted ability before she meets her own untimely end...

Sherlockians everywhere will enjoy puzzling out clues alongside Baker Street bookshop owner and sleuth, Gemma Doyle—a cozy mystery for fans of Miranda James and Kate Carlisle When Jayne Wilson’s mother is accused of murder, Jayne and Gemma have to eliminate the impossible to reveal the true killer. Legendary stage and movie star Sir Nigel Bellingham arrives on Cape Cod to star in a stage production of The Hound of the Baskervilles put on by the West London Theater Festival. When Sir Nigel, some of the cast, and the director visit the Sherlock Holmes Bookshop at 222 Baker Street, Gemma Doyle realizes that Sir Nigel is not at all suited to the role. He is long past his prime and an old drunk to boot. The cast, in particular the much younger actor who previously had the role, are not happy, but the show must go on. Before the play opens, Leslie Wilson, mother of Gemma’s best friend Jayne, arranges a fundraising afternoon tea to be catered by Mrs. Hudson’s Tea Room. The tea is a huge success, but when it’s time to leave, Sir Nigel has gone missing—only to be found at the bottom of the rocky cliff, dead. Along with the dead body, Gemma finds evidence incriminating Leslie Wilson. When the police, in the presence of handsome detective Ryan Ashburton and suspicious detective Louise Estrada, focus their attention on Leslie despite the numerous other suspects, the game is once again afoot and it’s again up to the highly perceptive Gemma and the ever-confused but loyal Jayne to clear Jayne’s mother’s name.

On the 1st of May, 1774, the anchor-ice, which for so many months had silver-plated the river's bed with frosted crusts, was ripped off and dashed into a million gushing flakes by the amber outrush of the springtide flood. On that day I had laid my plans for fishing the warm shallows where the small fry, swarming in early spring, attract the great lean fish which have lain benumbed all winter under their crystal roof of ice. So certain was I of a holiday undisturbed by school-room tasks that I whistled up boldly as I sat on my cot bed, sorting hooks according to their sizes, and smoothing out my feather-flies to make sure the moths had not loosened wing or body. It was, therefore, with misgiving that I heard Peter and Esk go into the school-room, stamping their feet to make what noise they were able, and dragging their horn-books along the balustrade. Now we had no tasks set us for three weeks, for our schoolmaster, Mr. Yost, journeying with the post to visit his mother in Pennsylvania, had been shot and scalped at Eastertide near Fort Pitt—probably by some drunken Delaware. My guardian, Sir William Johnson, who, as all know, was Commissioner of Indian Affairs for the Crown, had but recently returned from the upper castle with his secretary, Captain Walter Butler; and, preoccupied with the lamentable murder of Mr. Yost, had found no time to concern himself with us or our affairs. However, having despatched a messenger with strings and belts to remonstrate with the sachems of the Lenni-Lenape—they being, as I have said, suspected of the murder—we discovered that Sir William had also written to Albany for another schoolmaster to replace Mr. Yost; and it gave me, for one, no pleasure to learn it, though it did please Silver Heels, who wearied me with her devotion to her books. So, hearing Esk and fat Peter on their way to the school-room, I took alarm, believing that our new schoolmaster had arrived; so seized my fish-rod and started to slip out of the house before any one might summon me. However, I was seen in the hallway by Captain Butler, Sir William's secretary, and ordered to find my books and report to him at the school-room. I, of course, paid no heed to Mr. Butler, but walked defiantly down-stairs, although he called me twice in his cold, menacing voice. And I should have continued triumphantly out of the door and across the fields to the river had not I met Silver Heels dancing through the lower hallway, her slate and pencil under her arm, and loudly sucking a cone of maple sugar.