When words are few and hearts raw, God provides. This week, provision came in the form of letters from little people.
Anyone who reads this blog knows that Webster is my sun and stars. Today the light has gone dark.
A fata morgana is a form of superior mirage, resembling a sparkly strip of light above the horizon. Old-timey folks thought maybe it was a fairy castle, or a Flying Dutchman.* A cata Morgana is a form of superior feline, resembling a muscle-bound Mario with two “dead” hind legs. Veterinary folks thought maybe he was […]
Good boy. Goooooood boy. You’re my gooboy. Why do we say this to our cats constantly? What makes them so praiseworthy when they’re eating or staring at us or just being happy?
Warning: deep thoughts ahead. If you smell something burning, consider yourself warned. I’d venture to say that much of the pain in the world is caused by exclusion. The human world, that is.
Whoever they are and whatever they’ve been through, cats don’t do “pretentious.” Felines simply don’t find it worth their time to say “the ramifications and consequences may be salutary” when they could say “it’ll be fine.” They have no need or desire to impress you with their erudition learnin’. They are what they are: take […]
It’s a long way from Tabby’s Place to the Garlic Capital of the World. And that’s sad. But, despite the 2,952 miles between us, the cats have a grade-A angel in Gilroy, CA.
It has come to my attention that, every spring, those buttoned-up and staid Brits engage in a sport befitting crumpets and Queens. They chase a nine-pound ball of cheese down a steep hill.*
Good things often come back. Cyndi Lauper. Neon. Princess phones. Bedazzlers. But sometimes, good things come back when they should have stayed right where they were. Boy Bands: in the 90s. Lunch: in your stomach. Cats: in their adoptive homes.
The FIV-indeterminate kittens have an announcement to make. Thus saith the orinch herd: the results are in. Sort of.