Oh December. Just when we’re ready to write you off as a dastardly doer of dastardly deeds, you give us a thrill of hope, and some out-of-season kittens.
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.
OK, guys. We need to talk about Henrietta.
2015 has given us many gifts. Princess Bubblegum. Caffeinated peanut butter. Music for cats.
There are Christmas songs, and then there are Christmas songs.* “O Holy Night” is one of the latter. O Holy Tabby’s Place, quite conveniently, is singing that song full strength this year.
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.
It is a very fine thing that cats don’t worry. Eek is not worried that Mario seems to prefer tabby girls. Goldie is not worried that perhaps Impy moved to Suite B because of his flatulence. Orion is not worried about what he can’t see.
Everything is connected. The future is today. (No, really.) And we’re only really “us” when we’re with “them.”
This is a wild, woolly world. We’ve got global goals and global griefs. We’ve got water on Mars and Macklemore back on the charts. Fortunately, we’ve also got gobs of cat news.