Epilogues: January 2024

Epilogues: January 2024

Happy First and Last February Second of 2024! Maurice and his confrères welcome you to the new.

Cats love new years. They love them so much, they celebrate them on a rolling basis.

But cats hate resolutions. They hate them so much, they are here to save us from them, at great personal cost.

We have learned not to speak of Planet Fitness or quinoa at Tabby’s Place. We walk among creatures who consider weight loss precisely what it sounds like: a loss to be grieved, preferably with sympathetic bouquets of salami.

The concept of consciously changing oneself is repulsive to our residents. Were they not placed upon the earth in full possession of perfection? Who would dare retouch Eira‘s eyes so that they “match,” or Baby‘s body type so that he is no longer useful as a flotation device?

But then, we are the sad species who thinks we need shame to succeed. We think we need to feel small to grow. We think we need articles like “64 Ways to Use Up a Bag of Shredded Cheese,” when all the while, the answers are here.

The answers are hungry and eager to feed us. Cheese is good, but contentment is better. Salami is never the wrong answer, but self-respect is…OK, salami is superior, but self-respect is right, too.

The answers assembled the evidence all January:

Arrived: Frankie (not that Frankie), Alex (not that Alex), Nessie, Lucia, Delinda, Blue, Sir, Vivaldi, Beethoven, Stravinsky, Bach, Chopin, Symphony, Daphne, Rumi, Evelyn, Dwight, Sadie, Henrietta, Kahlo, Monet, Dali, Daphne’s Six Names-Pending Newborns (because they are THAT new), Marilla

Adopted: Mara, Thalia, Jerome, Jampa, Amala, Lucy, Simona, Yuki & Lawrence (together), Calliope, Linus, Fortune Cookie, Capulet & Mercutio (together), Nola, Frankie & Alex (together), Mae, Sushi, Nessie, Josephine, Coby, Delinda, Mr. Peanut

Promoted to the Community Room: Farva

Promoted to the Lobby: Copycat

Promoted to Heaven: Josie, Mullet

Stuff We Learned: Walking on tall, tottering legs, we are always worried. But the cats would have us lay beside them, on the floor and far above the fog of “resolve.” Bring your missing pieces and your craters. Bring your questions. Bring your freckles and your flatulence. (I only write what the cats tell me.) Bring yourself entire, and see if love doesn’t make you better while you’re not paying attention.

Then go pay attention to some cats. Sleep. Dream. Repeat. Tomorrow is another new year.

Pictured top to bottom: Lawrence, Rumi, Farva, Yuki

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