Luna did not vote in the New Hampshire primary. Luna did not watch the Oscars. Luna did not miss anything.
I have so many questions. Where were Dunkaroos hiding all those years? How does human free will dance with the sovereignty of God? To what is “The Final Countdown” counting down?* And, most importantly: how is it possible that Missy spawned Puddin and BooBear?
John Legend songs. Red roses. Abominations committed against marshmallows. It’s Valentine’s Day, with all its mixed feelings. Fortunately, we have Dorito, and Dorito has us.
Whereas: January has ended. Whereas: February is a mini-month, even when it leaps. Resolved: Winter is on the run.
We’ve been mesmerized and gratified and starry-eyed. We’ve been sermonized and sorely tried and over-simplified. But it’s only in this still-young year that Tabby’s Place has been properly Simonized.
It has befallen us. This is not a drill. We simultaneously have a Puddin’ and a Dumpling.
The world is large. The world is broken. The world is softly draped in Cotton.
There are many ways to mask your identity. One of the most effective: surround yourself with idiots who can’t even recognize you undisguised.
I had no idea, when I wrote Puzzle’s piece, that last week would be his last. “Here I am!” he cried, triumphant, to the end. “Yet I live!” he sings now, even now.
Certain cats have always been here. Before the foundation of Tabby’s Place was lain; before life dragged any of us bedraggled humans onto the scene; long before there was even a Ringoes, NJ, they were here. Can you blame us for wanting them to always be here?