Sonnets don’t stop
Jonathan said something both ironic and profound this week. Actually, he said many such things. But the particular Rosenberg koan that comes to mind today is this: “We gotta put a moratorium on death.”
Absolution
This may sound scandalous, but it’s a fact: At Tabby’s Place, we regularly see cats do Bad Things.
The million and the one
We are about a lot of things at Tabby’s Place. We are about love. We are about “the least of these.” We are very much about Veggie Straws, and the color orange, and obscure names for kittens. But we are not, and have frankly never been, about the numbers.
Unlonely thoughts
If you think Tabby’s Place needs more secret passageways… If you think America’s Got Talent should be renamed America’s Got Problems… If you’re absolutely apoplectic about the impending cancellation of Sábado Gigante… …some cat, somewhere, is on your precise wavelength.
The overflow of the heart
I’ve been thinking about Queen‘s heart lately. Contrary to popular opinion, it is not an empty hole, The Abyss, or Vladimir Putin’s soul and inspiration.
Heated questions
We are all longing for something. When we are in control think we are in control, we can cover this with niceties and propriety. “I’m fine. All’s cool. No worries.” When we are honest, we’re prone to act like Coco.
Body of work
When you’re human, it’s easy to drowse into climate-controlled forgetfulness. But when you live with cats, it’s impossible to forget that you are more than your mind.
No mordinary
Some wag wrote that “everyone is normal ’til you get to know them.” But I say unto you, no one is ordinary once you get to love them.
To know, know, know them…and you
I confess befuddlement before the cult of celebrity. I have never been one to dream of catching a wispy glimpse of someone known to many someones. This is as true of famous humans* as it is of famous cats.
The great disalonement
The cats remind us that we are not alone. For every oddity and instance of ookiness, there’s a comrade in arms to share your strangeness.