My pet monster, part I
Did you know that, in terms of taxonomy, every amiable, shaggy individual on Sesame Street is a member of the genus “monster?” Marcia has never lost sight of this fact, and she meditates on it. Daily.
Did you know that, in terms of taxonomy, every amiable, shaggy individual on Sesame Street is a member of the genus “monster?” Marcia has never lost sight of this fact, and she meditates on it. Daily.
Continued… Hips’ American adventure began with a bit of repair. Like any hot rod worthy of its flames, the injured cat needed a bit of detailing.
What is the Linda Fund? The Linda Fund is the friend who shows up with a torch in your darkness, smiling and calming and kind. The Linda Fund is the answer to questions we’re often too scared to ask. The Linda Fund is the triumph of love over despair. The Linda Fund is happening today.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to tell you: there is no regularly scheduled programming. Everyone who’s ever been handed a stiff program in Goudy Old Style font needs to re-learn how to make paper airplanes. And anyone who tells you to “get with the program” needs to remember how to shimmy their Hips.
The bonfire-orange leaves do not miss the days they were green. The canyon-throated bullfrog does not wax nostalgic for his polywog past. The muppet-headed Siamese does not lament the loss of her earlier lives. They are all a good deal wiser than we are.
A goose landed on the spire of my church one morning. And he stayed. And he stayed. And he shouted. And he made me think of Winston, and you, and me.
Tearstained preface: this post, written weeks ago, was not meant to be a “Forever Loved.” Bartholomew, the improbable bard and ballast of the Development Office, was never “meant” to survive past a few weeks…but he did, with tenderness and derring-do. Which meant the blind, deaf seer was never meant to leave us. But that’s what […]
To the naked eye, Tabby’s Place appears to be a cat sanctuary. A special cat sanctuary, certainly. One-of-a-kind. Sensational. Smitten with specifically those cats the world forgot. But Tabby’s Place is more than it appears: an outpost of love. A living, purring, peeing parable. A tumbler of timeless truths. And a place where August can […]
I want to go to the planetarium. I want to buy a new bath towel. I want everything to remain exactly the way that it is, and I want everything to change for the better. I don’t know what I want. If I were a certain cat, this would not worry my little mind.
These moments are our lives, you know. The moments that feel like dandelion puffs. The moments that feel like submarines. The moments we wish away or try to hurl out of the way. The moments when we’re Bart, and the moments when we’re Glenn.