It’s Christmas Eve, and so I’ll let my words be few. The cats want to be your manger.
Some things keep coming back, and we rejoice: Archway Wedding Cake cookies, It’s A Wonderful Life, permission to wear bright red and bright green simultaneously, permission to gush love at people unironically without making them uncomfortable (thank you, The Holiday Season). But some things were never meant to come back.
Recently, we acknowledged that, much like us, cats are ordinary. But today I’m here to tell you that they are also supernal.
There are two things that readers of this blog should know very well. There are no ordinary cats. This is no ordinary time.
Be it known that November 2020 has come, November 2020 has gone, November 2020 will not be back again. You and me and the cats, though? We’re still here.
This lemony year has taken many things from us, while simultaneously hoarding all the sugar and Splenda so as to prevent us from making lemonade. But what do Tabby’s Place kittens do with lemons? They throw them out the window and make some righteous tuna salad.
This fall, we had a kitten named “Everything.” I’m inclined to think that’s the best name we’ve ever given, and not just because it explains his siblings, “Cinnamon Raisin” and “Garlic.”
We live in an opinion-rich reality. Maybe it’s the internet; maybe it’s the little rectangular megaphones we all carry in our pockets; maybe it’s just human nature. Whatever the cause, we’ve gotten catlike in our arrogance. Trouble is, it looks much better on them than on us.
There’s a reason we can’t see 10 years or 10 weeks or 10 minutes into the future. There’s a reason we can’t extend our legs 50 feet, all telescopic and stretchy, to “make time.” But we’re unreasonable beasts who still think we can get ahead of ourselves.