You aren’t seeing things. There are, as Paul Simon sang, angels in the architecture, especially right now. Gigantic garish gold Styrofoam angels at Macy’s. Skies of heavenly hosts, over mangers and strangers, under trees and eaves. Angels festooning the firmament of your own soul. Every December, without fail, they sing a little louder than usual.
You gave us wonder and splendor. You gave us the return of Bill and Ted (see above). You gave us the feast day of St. Augustine, and the annual pondering as to whether or not his friends called him “Gus.” You gave us an uncommonly high volume of marmalade cats.
Oh August, sweet little August, you are young yet, and tender. Yet as you grow, we have a request for you. On behalf of every individual of every species on every continent, subcontinent and islet: please be kind.
We try to keep it real on this blog. That said, if you ever hear me utter the words “I’m keepin’ it real,” please take me gently by the hand and take me to a quiet room where you can apply duct tape to my mouth (preferably glitter duct tape).
There was a time when Tabby’s Place had a full-size Christmas tree in our lobby, all aglitter with sparkly bits and bobs and luminous light. There was also a time when pterodactyls soared above the earth. And then came the Community Cats.
OK, prayerful people, this post’s for you. Actually, this post’s for Lola. Today, she needs you.
I wish, with all my heart, that I did not have to write this post. Our beloved Lily has left this world.