






When we first opened Saipua about 3 years ago we got a visit from a man named "Mojo" who said he had the perfect shop cat for us. We said, "No thanks," and yet he was back the following weekend with Darla, (whom he had temporarily dubbed "Soapy," an unfortunate nod to our livelihood) a bag of cat litter and some cans of food.
He told us a dramatic story about how she had been locked inside a bodega that shut down over on Columbia Street, and how he had - after several failed attempts - been able to break her out.
She had missing teeth, no voice, and had apparently never learned how to clean herself. The first time I met Darla she jumped right in my lap. She spent a lot of time there over the last few years. But don't get me wrong, she was also gross. A loveable gross I guess.
Last night, after a day of kitty hospice she died. Poor little Scooter, we loved her.





















