Room for all
What are we doing here? Perhaps that’s an awfully vast question for a little cat blog. Perhaps that’s the only question for a little cat blog. Perhaps that’s the only question, full stop.
What are we doing here? Perhaps that’s an awfully vast question for a little cat blog. Perhaps that’s the only question for a little cat blog. Perhaps that’s the only question, full stop.
When you are a tortoiseshell of vast dignity, you are entitled to your secrets. Roxy gave me permission to tell you one: she loved Neil Young.
We are not the power. Love is the power. But oh, our light-force! when we turn our faces in its direction.
A recent, book-based televised series made a very great big deal about winter being on its way. Such a big deal was made that even non-readers and non-viewers could barely avoid the repetitions of a key phrase. They definitely could not avoid the memes. Reality check. Now, securely enfolded and embraced by the early promise […]
You never know what you might find at a place called The Golden Nugget. But a certain golden Mullet can assure you: you will find more than you expect.
What if you just can’t do it? What if you just can’t ruin your life? Take it from Melee: cats would never even think in these terms.
It would take all the lexicons of all the known, unknown, and dead languages that ever were, are, or will be to describe the wonder that is Lynette, gourmand and kitty extraordinaire. Lynette is extra: extra sweet, extra chatty, extra silly, and very extra interested in food – all…of…the…food.
On a cold spring day, we are the world’s vagabonds. We huddle together on the sharp corner of hope. Our begging bowls are empty, and our eyes are full of tears. We’ve lost two kittens.
There is so much we can’t understand. The strange communion between cats and sinks. The way fear can birth meanness or mercy. The existence of free will. The existence of “Is It Cake?” a program in which persons slice questionable items to determine the presence of pastry. Ourselves. Each other. Cats.