Forever loved: Sam and Mimi
Reality is neither obedient nor thoughtful. Still, it can be kind.
2 Comments
Blessed are the meek. In fact, they shall inherit the earth. Gentleness is victory. Tenderness is triumph. We’ve said it here before, but it bears repeating, as we goofus humans can forget. Cats, though — cats don’t forget. Especially not cats like Zach.
There are weeks that power your perseverance, and weeks that push your fist higher and higher into the restless sky. The start of September in Ringoes, NJ was one of the latter. We lost Meatball. We lost Tyke. And I’m not ashamed to report that we lost our patience with reality.
Editor’s note: treasured volunteer Tara was “supposed to” share Sweet Pea’s stories for a good, long time. Sweetness was supposed to linger. But when things don’t go to plan, love still sings its song. Thanks to Tara for writing this all-too-soon tribute.
We human beings, poor delicate orchids that we are, get all blushy and bashful over our odors and vapors and assorted effluvia. Cats, on the other hand, are proud of it all — perhaps especially their snot rockets.
Tell me, please. How is it that you can lose and lose and never be empty?
Human beings are really into ranks and scales and Being Important. Cats prefer to fling our low-minded hierarchies into the deepest, darkest pit.
As the song* has it, the body remembers what the mind forgets. But the reverse is also true.
Whatever we expect from them, cats excel at scrambling our expectations. Perhaps this is one of their great gifts.
We interrupt this Gratuitous Cat Photo season to mark the passing of a giant. A tiny, clementine-bright giant: Mango.