It’s Christmas Day. It’s Christmas Day, and you’re here, drawn to the cats like a child to the snow. It’s Christmas Day, and our child-hearts are together, where they belong.
It’s not just you. It’s not just Olive. Everyone is going through a hard time. Good thing we know a sanctuary.
October holds our hand so we’re not too scared to walk into the cold. She blesses the dark with orange and gold. She Halloweens us. She presses our trembling fingers into November’s paw, a knot of Saints and Souls. And in November, we remember: we are always living in Times Like These.
“Not compatible with life.” I have been thinking about this phrase a great deal lately.
We can’t control it. Cats can’t control it. “Control” is a comedic concept at times like these. The typhoon tickles itself, bursting into laughter. The tidal wave breaks the news, and it is more wonderful than our plans. Poncey and Andy get adopted together, and we’re surprised to find ourselves surprised.
Do you ever dream? Do you ever dream the sorts of dreams that make your toes twitch and your whiskers flicker?
There is a cord stronger than a double helix. Gator believes it is made of kielbasa. Arthur knows there is magic deeper still.
What are we doing here? Perhaps that’s an awfully vast question for a little cat blog. Perhaps that’s the only question for a little cat blog. Perhaps that’s the only question, full stop.
We are not the power. Love is the power. But oh, our light-force! when we turn our faces in its direction.
Every cat goes to bed satisfied that he saved the world that day. They are all correct. Since they go to bed and get up again eighteen times a day, this is quite an accomplishment.