Quick: name your top ten favorite living creatures of all time. Too hard? Let’s restrict it to cats. Still too hard? Good.
It’s Christmas Eve, and so I’ll let my words be few. The cats want to be your manger.
Every since the dawn of language, humans have come up with quaint euphemisms for difficult subjects of conversation. I flatly refuse to provide any data or sources. Feel free to ignore or accept my word, and/or examine a few of your own. (Make it fun!)
Sitting with a wonderfully toasty heating pad wrapped around my right foot and Paul McCartney crooning about his love makes me feel all gooshy inside. Okay, not exactly gooshy, but nice. I like the song, despite the sappiness, and I really love the heating pad.
My right foot is cold despite my super adorable rainbow sock. It may have something to do with the ice pack (Much obliged, Loki, mistress of the misstep). My left foot is keeping metaphorical company. In short, now is worrying.
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.
Because of the joys of social media (that assessment is equal parts sincere and sarcastic), by now, many of you have read about the new pet owner who informed his partner that the pets are not children, and he is not their father. After some time has elapsed, he arrives home from work, flings open […]
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.