Nineteen years. That’s how long it’s been since the invincible towers fell. This grief is two years older than Tabby’s Place itself.
Public service announcement. For the wretched of the earth, there is a flame that never dies.
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.
I hope, even in the midst of All These Things, you’re still able to get your Friday on. I wish you feisty joy. I wish you rebellious love. I wish you the Friday frippery of cats and children and saints and sages.
What do you do with the remnants? More urgently: what becomes of you when you realize you’re a remnant?
Full disclosure: Bucca is my favorite cat at Tabby’s Place. Full disclosure: last weekend I cried at least four times, and two of them were during the Americana Hour on public radio. Full disclosure: I don’t know about “full disclosure.”
Love comes in all shapes, sizes, colors, vectors, and ways. Love can grow slowly, strengthening with time and togetherness. Love can creep up on us like a cat on the prowl, knocking us off our feet, taking our breath away, and leaving us wondering what hit us after it escapes out grasp.
I’ve been thinking about freedom, and not just because of recent holidays (Independence Day, infinite Hamilton happiness, inevitable annual whinefests about Other People’s Fireworks, etc.). I’ve been thinking that I don’t think we always remember what freedom is about. I’ve been thinking that, if I’m gonna be free, I want the freedom of cats. Specifically, […]