When I first met Samantha, it was because another volunteer asked me to. The poor kitty was frightened, cowering in an open crate, and new to the community room. She needed friends, and it wasn’t difficult to convince her that scratches and cooing are nice.
“Do you wanna touch me?” “Touch me in the morning.” “Reaching out. Touching me. Touching you.” “Sometimes when we touch, the honesty’s too much.” “If you really want want me, just reach out and touch me.”
This is a night of waiting. Yearning. Keeping our watch of wondering love.
It’s been years since I watched Disney’s The Aristocats. I enjoyed it as a young girl, but found it annoying as a young adult in its polarization of the aristocracy (Madame and her Aristocats) and the working class (the Alley cats and Edgar, the butler). Society, human or feline, is far more complex than such […]
2015 has given us many gifts. Princess Bubblegum. Caffeinated peanut butter. Music for cats.
You did not ask the cats for advice for what to do with yourself this Labor Day. Fortunately, cats like giving unsolicited advice.
I do not know if pop stars claim to write their own songs. I do know, with serene confidence, that they do not write their own songs. If they tell you otherwise, they speak with forked tongue.
If you like to sing-a, say, about: 1. The moon-a 2. The June-a and/or 3. The spring-a, you are in luck. May has gone, The June-a has come, and it brings you cat tidings.
Tra-la… It’s May, which means spring is about to get real. We’re talking dogwoods. Tulips. Hydrangeas. And kittens. Baby kittens. Bring on the brain-liquefying, IQ-annihilating powers of kittens and their nuclear cuteness.