Public service announcement: you are in immediate danger of hyperglycemia. If sweetness isn’t your style, I’d urge you to make your way to the nearest exit. Really. Hurry.
For a short month, February makes a lot of noise. But then, February does hang out with Bear.
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.
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.
I have uncovered evidence of a vast cat-naming conspiracy. The other humans of Tabby’s Place have not permitted me to name a cat since Jean Valjean.
“They” tell me it is now Meteorological Autumn. “They” say kitten season is on the wane. But the great, proverbial “they” don’t know a thing about the endless summer of cats.