Any one day has a way of being something different for all beings. For cats, such days can be wrapped in delicately smoked trout on crunchy crackers, or they can be whipped into a frenzy of furtive, furry activity.
Bear with me a moment, please. I’m trying to wrap my mind around an idea. I asked for it. Literally. Only, what to do with it now that I have been thusly gifted, from my spouse’s own lips, with “Space Cats?”
You were once named for stockings, but your gifts were too big to stuff. You were once known for syrup, but your strength has a side of salt.
November arrives full of “alls.” Yesterday was All Saints Day. (The cats celebrated themselves appropriately.) Today is All Souls Day. (The cats snickered “bless your soul” at us inappropriately.) And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, we’re lavished with the luscious “alls” of 125 Tabby’s Place residents in all their muchness.
There’s no beating around this bristly, brutal bush. August 2018 dealt some awfulness in extremis at Tabby’s Place.
Be it known: beautiful things get missed much too often. Case in point: Saturn just came really close to the moon. If we were looking, we could have seen four planets at once. Four. (Five, if you looked down at the one you were standing on.) Case in second point: Minneapolis could have shut down […]