Beyond debate
Last night, you may have heard two seventy-year-olds yelling at each other, followed by their under-yellers yelling about the yelling. We’re not going to debate those debates here. But we do have issues to discuss.
Last night, you may have heard two seventy-year-olds yelling at each other, followed by their under-yellers yelling about the yelling. We’re not going to debate those debates here. But we do have issues to discuss.
There’s an expression I keep hearing this summer: “You just do you.” Or, turned around, “I gotta do me.”
It’s gotta be hard, being Faye. Face of an angel… Cotton candy fur… Eyes of utter innocence…
I’m sure this occurs to you all the time. In fact, it’s so obvious, it barely merits mention: Cats have a lot in common with the people of the Trobriand Islands.
If you have not been hiding inside a tree or running for President, you are aware: Pope Francis is in da house. No, not Tabby’s Place, alas. But, as I type these words, the Pope is a mere hundred miles from Ringoes, NJ, and he’s got us having all kinds of papal fun-cio.
If you’re reading this post, you’re doing July right. Before you can properly celebrate Independence Day, Bastille Day, and Tapioca Pudding Day, you must know how the cats spent all the days of June.
At this precise moment, it is 87 degrees in Ringoes, NJ, with a “RealFeel” of 90. I am not complaining. Neither are the cats. We are desert creatures. We do not beat the heat; we eat the heat. But in the event that you are a tundra creature ruing your sweaty life at this moment, […]
If you read Felis Catus on the regular, you know: we do our Epilogues on the first Friday of the month. That’s Friday as in tomorrow, as in, not today. However, there’s news of Jurassic proportions barreling our way tomorrow. We don’t want to unveil this epic information before it’s officially hatched, though, hence the […]