The United States is approaching a Presidential election.
We are, and are not, going to talk about that on this blog.
We are, because cats are political animals, and I do their bidding.
We are not, because my hobbies include: writing, consuming inadvisable quantities of Diet Coke, and not getting fired.
But even when we are not talking about the election, we will talk about the election, because we will talk about kittens.
I see that worried look on your face. I empathize. You think that talking about kittens is a respite from thinking about the election. You are, and are not, correct.
The fact is, kittens are infatuated with elections.
How else do we explain the fact that Stromboli began bouncing like an electrified espresso the moment Kayko entered the kitten room? The official contents of his speech to America were, “EEP! EEP! EEP!” (He also read the Gettysburg Address and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Political discourse is complex.)
Stromboli did not need a teleprompter. The translation is, of course, “You are here, and I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad!”
Or what about Shakira and her babies Phish, Aerosmith, Zeppelin, and Joplin? They were asked to consider a bill proposing that they become a family of six. The squirming security council was unanimous before they even met little orphan Camila. (That’s Aerosmith and Zep pictured above. As you can see, their political philosophy is “hugs.”)
Not only did they welcome her into their purring pile, but they elected her The Big Cheese. (This is an office held for life, like the Supreme Court, but without robes. Cats will not vote for anyone who is not naked.)
Then we have Coconut, the littlest dignitary. She does not listen to lobbyists. She listens to heartbeats. I am not being poetic. Coconut spends most of her day being cradled by constituents, her tiny head huddled against the fist-sized organ that keeps us alive.
She has heard the diastole and systole of children and curmudgeons. She has drowsed in diametrically opposed arms, going from Democrat to Republican unawares. She has gazed straight into souls, until fists become hearts again.
You see it now, right?
Kittens are are all about elections.
They elect everyone they encounter.
Kittens are geniuses, unhindered by caution. If you are present, you are qualified to be their president. If you are kind, you possess all the qualifications.
Their foreign policy is that no heart is foreign to their love.
Their first act in office is the elimination of the word “them.” Kittens are an unapologetic, ever-expanding “us.”
Kittens have a lot to teach us.
But until we find the courage to learn, they will keep living by their own law: “We are glad you are here! We are glad! We are glad! We are glad! We are glad!”