Saints and souls and sweets

Saints and souls and sweets

I saw Batman on the bypass this morning.

I saw Oram in Suite FeLV.

I don’t need to explain which was more exciting.

When awards are given for patience and perseverance, our cats will win them all. (Inmate Ralph, composed of 89% innocence and 11% turkey, will win more than most. He comforts himself by comparing himself to fellow noble prisoner Jean Valjean, but that’s another blog for another day.)

On this day of gummy bears and grade-school ghouls, Almond Joys and tiny boys turned into Avengers, Snickers and Skittles and socially sanctioned strangeness, we are surrounded by saints and souls.

Of course, this is always the case at Tabby’s Place. But the strange and the sacred both get amplified as October nestles into November.

Halloween, the hinge of “autumn” and “deep autumn,” forms a holy huddle with All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day.

One day, we’re blackmailing our neighbors for mediocre chocolate (pity the ghoul who proffers circus peanuts or Bits o’ Honey).

The next, we’re poking each other and saying, “look! Did you see that? Real, sizzling kindness. People are pouring out mercy. Brave ones are loving each other over the hedges and edges. Saints of all species are forgiving each other and giving each other grace and giving each other the giggles and giving each other their leftover Milky Ways (the good stuff!) and giving us hope for this hungry world.”

And then come the souls. All the souls.

If ever an individual matched his costume better than chocolate matches peanut butter, ’twas Oram. Welcome to the Alien Nation.

We don’t need November 2nd to remind us to remember the ones we’ve lost. Some days, we can still hardly believe that we can live without them. But on All Souls’, Halloween’s huddle-buddy, swaddled with saints and Starbursts (surely there are a few left in the bottom of the pumpkin?), we lean in.

We lean into the veil, trusting that it’s thin.

We lean into memory, warming our hands at the fire that not even death can douse.

We lean into mystery, believing that the bonds we shared are everlasting, and that a great cheering section of cats and grandparents and grace-faced beloveds is holding our banners high.

We lean into legacy, carrying their torches and their tenderness into a future where we can’t see their faces, but we can feel their breath and their strength.

And we lean into lunacy, the humor that heals and hallows and haloes us all. Can’t you hear the good and the ghoulish, the living and the dead, all laughing and loving and leaning in close to cherish these cats of ours?

Wilbur is not amused, but fun-sized Halloween liverwurst pops would change that real fast.

Don’t you want to join the jubilee?

So whether you’re a motorcycle-riding Batman or a merry-making Oram, come along for the sweet and the soulful. There are salty saints and shimmering souls and hallowed weenies of all species all around us, and not a single dum dum to be found.

Colossal thanks to radiant Jae, Bree, Tiana, and Tiff for these remarkable photos. I can neither confirm nor deny that the cats enjoyed themselves as much as we are enjoying ourselves at their expense. Rest assured we spare no expense in reminding them that they are, in fact, in charge, and we just need these moments of frippery to pretend we have any sort of say-so. Featured below: Dani, Tux, Ponce de Leon, S’mores, Hips, Boobalah, Gator, Elliot, Elijah.

Leave a Reply