Yes, that is my Clorox2 that I accidentally left on the counter. No, please don’t touch it to hand it to me. You shouldn’t have done that.
We humans are hopelessly “gifted” at flinging our own interpretations and insecurities onto the cats. And so we wring our hands over the overlooked.
True fact: you may, someday, be more renowned than Taylor Swift. Equally true fact: you may labor and love in obscurity for all of your days. Most factual fact: either way, you’re in good company.
Cats are exquisitely skilled creatures. They are gifted at acquiring fish mush and veneration. They are talented at adapting to change. But they are arguably at their best when finding nooks.*
It’s Fat Tuesday, kittens. The climax of Carnival. The ledge of Lent. The day of muchness, merry munching and madness-making before the ashes and the awe and the evaluation of the state of our souls. If that’s your thing. Around here, you know what that means. Thus commences your annual glut of globularity, your smorgasbord […]
It’s Fat/Shrove/Gras Tuesday/Mardi. That means but one thing.
June is arguably the best of months. It has the Strawberry Moon. It has the promise that you will always be a bride. It has Wonder Woman.*
So our suite for shy cats contains cats who are shy, except for the fact they aren’t anymore. Our Adoption Rooms are still technically called Adoption Rooms, even though they aren’t rooms for adoption. So are you really surprised that our sparkly new, specially designated Kitten Room contains precisely 0.000 kittens?
April, sweet April, T.S. Eliot had you all wrong. You’re not the cruellest month. You’re not trying to show us fear in a handful of dust.