The world is weeping. Our brothers and sisters are shuddering in subways, crawling across borders, bearing their children and their grandparents and their ragged animals on their backs. Are we supposed to bask in jolly cat happenings at such a time as this?
May it never be forgotten. And “auld lang syne” and all that good stuff. While we’re at it, let’s take a cup of kindness, too.
Who knows what dreams may be had under the couch? All I can say is that they must be sweet, because all those days spent under the couch and dreaming have led to some stellar waking hours for Eloise and Lady Grey.
We presently have a litter of kittens named after members of the Dave Matthews Band, who would surely appreciate this post’s title – but it isn’t about them. No, it’s about the way a terrified cat’s under-the-couch-time can be time well spent.
Maybe they need therapy. Then again, when you’re in (stereotypical) therapy, you – the human bean – are lying on a couch, right? So maybe living under the couch is Eloise & Lady Grey’s way of telling us they think we need therapy?