April, sweet April, T.S. Eliot had you all wrong. You’re not the cruellest month. You’re not trying to show us fear in a handful of dust.
In one of the greatest books of all time, one of the greatest characters of all time said, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” That makes two of us, Anne Shirley. After all, Octobers include cats.
The songwriters of the world can’t quite agree about September. Some want to remember it.* Some are trying to remember it. Some just want to be awakened when it ends. And then there are the cats.
When in the course of feline events, it becomes necessary for one cat suite to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to […]