Living to roar another day
The results are back. But, more importantly, so is the lion.
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Warning: this will not be my most articulate blog post. Today I beseech you for your prayers for a cat. More precisely, the cat. The cat who puts the twist in my tail, the bend in my ends, the sprinkle on my cupcake. Webster.
Sometimes what’s simple is true. There’s no “new math” required here: loving human + stripey kitten = neverending specialness.
With apologies to Major Tom and regrets to Ziggy Stardust, I must announce: David Bowie is not the most significant comeback rocker of 2013. That would be Tabby’s Place’s own Natalie.
Much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for the epic title above. You’ll know he’s an AwesomeAdopter as soon as I tell you: Juniper‘s own Pa was calling her JUNIPER THE MAGNIFICENT within approximately 8 seconds of adopting her.
Kittens seem to embrace the “live fast, die young” philosophy of the adolescent and the invincible. But that’s never, ever, ever meant to be literal. It is with shock and sorrow that I must report our Florence has left us.
There are cats named for flowers. There are cats named for motorcycles. And then there are cats named for obscure local weathermen whose names sound like Star Trek characters. Or medicated nasal sprays. Or medicated nasal sprays used by Star Trek characters.
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise: cats are natural-born revolutionaries. With apologies to Che Guevara, all those anti-establishment college students have the wrong face on their T-shirts. If you really want to show the world that you’re against oppression and superficiality, in favor of free-trade everything, and you want to give all the peasants chocolate […]
It’s every twelve-year-old girl’s dream that The Boy will liken her to his favorite celebrity. I lived the dream…but it took a short-whiskered cat, twenty years later, to make me see just how downright dweamy it all was.