Oh, goodness. It has been a spell. The last time I opined about the wonders of wonderfully ancient cats was probably in 2016. Maybe a little later, when I wrote a goodbye love-letter to beautiful Bianca. The point is, it has been a spell. And as we often find with spells, it has been…complicated.
Good things happen in June. Good things also happen in eleven other months, but there’s something about June that just makes you want to…sing-a. Especially when it starts on a Friday, and you’re alive, and you live in a world in which cats exist.
April brought us a movie based on the classic arcade game Rampage. April brought us Fred, Dino and Snoop. There are no coincidences.
“April is the cruelest month.” – T.S. Eliot “T.S. Eliot is incorrect.” – Angela Hartley and 120 cats
We talk about Life more than usual this time of year. Perhaps it’s because we need it so desperately, weary of brown fields and whipping cold. Maybe it’s because Life itself starts getting fidgety and feisty around us, little yellow buds singing protest songs at a grim sky.
What did February brew for you, kittens? Was it the seasonal equivalent of honey-lemon tea, accented with a pink marshmallow heart? Or was it a colander of questionably-colored snow?
This can be a funny time of year. Not funny-ha-ha; funny like Election Day, or hemorrhoids, or ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife.
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.
“They” tell me it is now Meteorological Autumn. “They” say kitten season is on the wane. But the great, proverbial “they” don’t know a thing about the endless summer of cats.