Gratuitous cat photo of the day: Let heaven and nature sing
With apologies to Santa, I’m asking the cats for gifts this year. Besides, I’d rather sit Bucca in my lap than personally sit in a bearded globetrotter’s lap any day.
With apologies to Santa, I’m asking the cats for gifts this year. Besides, I’d rather sit Bucca in my lap than personally sit in a bearded globetrotter’s lap any day.
Far, far be it from me to fat-shame cats. To do that would require (a) that fatness was shameful and (b) that cats were capable of shame.
Today is the first day of winter…meteorological winter. The cats are celebrating accordingly.
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.
For the fruits of your labors, the Tabby’s Place cats thank you. You donate. You share our stories. You pray. You love. You labor your legwarmers off…and your labors do not go unnoticed.
Some humans convened this week. Other humans will convene next week. On a scale from “the 1%” to “yuuuuuuge”, the cats’ level of caring is smaller than the margin of error.
I had a regular blog post queued up for today, I did. It was stupid and normal and made jokes about Swamp People and vegan cheese and cat flatulence.* But in light of the week our world is having, stupid and normal and flatulent went out the window.
Lord have mercy. Those words have escaped my lips more times than I can count this week, and not in the “Uncle Jesse from Full House” sense.
One day, carnival carousing. The next, dust and ashes. Such is the Lenten kickoff dance.
Nose-to-nose with Love, prophets and sages of all sorts have the good sense to fall on their knees, speechless. In the face of the divine, words fail.