Please break our hearts, Part V: Gator
In all the land, there is only one Gator. We currently have him. He is ours. We want you to take him. We want you to break our hearts.
Decision(s) 2024
Today is the day. The world is waiting, breathless, to see what we will decide. We may not know the outcome by the time we go to sleep. Only history can tell if we chose wisely. History, and Olive.
The movable feast
What do you do when you throw a party, but no one wants to dance? Well, you bring everyone to the neighbors’ house, of course.
Epilogues: December 2023
So here we stand, at the end and the beginning. Cats know that there are only ever beginnings. Cats know many things beyond our reach. But they are gentle, and permit us to believe in figments — endings, the concept of “age appropriate,” the existence of credible vegan cheese — as long as necessary. Perhaps […]
Kitty LeFey’s Cosmos: Stack the Deck
There are no guarantees in this world. For example, there is no guarantee that one of our cherished (ALL OF YOU!) readers won’t win a Nobel Prize in 3 years from now for something accomplished 12 years ago. There is no guarantee that Antin’s fancy new duds, intended to protect his knees, will stay in […]
Wild balls of brightness
I sincerely, obnoxiously believe it is totally, terrifyingly all up to me. Clearly I have not yet spent enough time in the presence of cats.
Still and ever
There was a time when kinfolk cloistered in Brooklyn brownstones or Omaha homesteads, Italian and Swedish singing across the clotheslines and generations. There was a time when Suite C was Suite C, and cats of a certain fatness stuffed the years like rollatini, together for (a) forever or (b) until someone slimmed their way elsewhere. […]
Happy clappy June
It’s June, my little jitterbugs. It’s the happiest (handclap) clappiest (handclap) time of the year. Beach time. Pool time. Free-to-be-a-fool time. (Mark your calendars.) Are you singing? Why aren’t you singing? Sing to me, my angels of music. Better yet, swing this junebug into the nearest parking lot and tell me the truth, the way […]
Memorial mercies
Holy moly, humans. We’re a holey bowl of needers, aren’t we? Fragile doilies. Patchwork jeans. Slim slices of Swiss. But we are surrounded by creatures who consider themselves the living equivalents of chunk cheese. They are more than happy to patch our holes with melty mercy.