One in five orange cats is female. One in a million orange cats is a certified genius. One orange cat is Cleopatra.
There is only one month of the year that makes a philosophical statement simply by existing: “May.” Fortunately, one hundred percent of cats make philosophical statements simply by existing.
It is a pleasure welcoming new cats. New cats are nifty, awesome and swell. But old cats have a patina, and a double portion of panache. And old Smokey has fire that has nothing to do with age.
His purr was a kazoo orchestra from another planet. His eyes were green apples, sweet and scampish. His love was the lantern that made everyone grin. Jack was too many miracles to fit in one box.
Beauty cannot guarantee an easy life. Goodness may have to walk the rough road. But if you are brave enough to be bananas, it will all smooth out in the end.
She’s going to be okay, because she has to be okay. I am talking about Patches. I am talking about all of us.
It’s better that we don’t know in advance, don’t you think? If you told us, in May 2024, which cat beds would be empty in May 2025, we wouldn’t have had the strength to bear it.
We should have known better. Feline leukemia virus is not “nothing.” We, of all people, should have known better. But when the choice is to know better or to know deeper, we choose to dive.
“The harvest has begun.” Jonathan has said this before. Jonathan will say it again. Each time, he sounds as amazed as if it were the first time.
The taro plant is a tuber, like a sweet potato or a yam. But there is a reason your Mee-maw never made a taro casserole with melty marshmallows. The Taro cat would not abide it.