Oh, March, you month of missed opportunities. You talk about lions, lambs, and leprechauns, but you overlook the one creature on earth who is simultaneously all three. You make much of March Madness, but dribble right past its experts. Kittens, March! Cherish the Kittens!
When nobody knows your name, you cock your ear at every small sound. Could that be the call? Might those be the syllables that circle you at last? When nobody knows your name, you’re still somebody.
We will not be covering the US Presidential Election on this blog. This is a selfish decision on my part, I know. But my hobbies include “avoiding panic attacks” and “not getting fired,” so here we are. Also, the cats’ preferred candidate already dropped out, by whom of course I mean Hulk Hogan. We will, […]
Spring is eleven days old. Spring folds winter in its apron, like warm bread for later. Spring bears more than a passing resemblance to Tabby’s Place.
If you are loved, you are strong. If you are Antin, you are stronger than death.
“Raisin does not like Rosalind.” “One of the kittens pooped in the sink.” “I have found my vocation; my vocation is love.”
There is always a brief frisson when you step into a new shoe. The foam awaits your footprint. You will be this sole’s first mate. There are no pebbles in the treads. But let’s be honest with each other, as honest as a cat. There is no match for a holey old friend.
He thinks he is from France. We are not going to tell him he is from Connecticut. We are certainly not going to tell him this is New Jersey.
Never, ever, ever. Ever, ever, ever. Ever. Never. Ever. Ever. Now you know the point at which you are permitted to give up.