April, April, you merry little month. You bring us wicker baskets of blossoms, and wry wailing winds to whirl them all away.
From where I sit, legs dangling off the edge of the world, ready to be caught by 120 strong cats, I can tell you the following with a high measure of confidence: We have had ourselves a capital-M Month.
The world is weeping. Our brothers and sisters are shuddering in subways, crawling across borders, bearing their children and their grandparents and their ragged animals on their backs. Are we supposed to bask in jolly cat happenings at such a time as this?
When I first met Samantha, it was because another volunteer asked me to. The poor kitty was frightened, cowering in an open crate, and new to the community room. She needed friends, and it wasn’t difficult to convince her that scratches and cooing are nice.
It’s a quote that stays compelling even after it’s been Pinterested to death: “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
March, baby, we need to talk. That lion-and-lamb stuff is an understatement when it comes to you. Good heavens to Murgatroyd, did you ever march forth.
Public service announcement: you are in immediate danger of hyperglycemia. If sweetness isn’t your style, I’d urge you to make your way to the nearest exit. Really. Hurry.
For a short month, February makes a lot of noise. But then, February does hang out with Bear.