Those kittens
Purr, and the world purrs with you. Hiss, and you’ve got a parking space at Tabby’s Place.
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Purr, and the world purrs with you. Hiss, and you’ve got a parking space at Tabby’s Place.
“Cherish the kittens.” It seems obvious. Obvious enough to be absurd. Obvious enough to be obscene. But then again, you and I are covered in eyes.
When nobody knows your name, you cock your ear at every small sound. Could that be the call? Might those be the syllables that circle you at last? When nobody knows your name, you’re still somebody.
Luck is fine, if your aspirations are modest. Luck may win the MegaMillions. But luck is far too little for a kitten.
When he bequeathed to us the song Hallelujah Leonard Cohen reminded us of the grace and beauty that is paired generously with the grit and darkness that is part and parcel of being human: “it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.” We carry a spark that some may call divine. We also carry weights […]
He was just a common kitten. No name, no mother, no letter of recommendation. Just a tangle of tangerine fur, tearful eyes, and a hummingbird’s drumming heart. Just a cluster of “commons.”