If you think Tabby’s Place needs more secret passageways…
If you think America’s Got Talent should be renamed America’s Got Problems…
If you’re absolutely apoplectic about the impending cancellation of Sábado Gigante…
…some cat, somewhere, is on your precise wavelength.
If you can’t stop thinking about something called an “A.M. crunchwrap,” Ella would like to take you out for breakfast.
If you have consumed so many “A.M. crunchwraps” that you have beached like a walrus, Jackie would like to loll with you upon the shore.
If the darling buds of May have you all dozy and dreamy, Mango would like to meander with you.
But if you have been blessed with a wilder mind, Angel would like to meet you in Tompkins Square Park. To yell. Just for happiness.
Are you struggling with the implications of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite’s apophatic theology? Casper is, too.
But if you’re just wondering how many Oreos you can fit in your mouth at once, Jackie’s here for you.
You may toss at night wondering if it’s true that, when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Bo wonders the same thing, and walks with you through your dark nights of the soul.
Perhaps you fear your flaws make you too resistible. After about 700,000 almost-adoptions, Sherpa wonders the same.*
Sometimes, you just might feel like a wee little child in need of food and kisses and the shelter of sturdy love. Our kittens relate.
Or maybe, like Indie, you’re just worried you’re not going to get a primo seat at the Governor’s Ball this year.
Whatever may befall, feast on the fact that you, kittens, are not alone. Not by the longest possible shot. And not just ’cause of cats.
THE LINDA FUND HAS BEGUN. YOU CAN HAZ ALL THE AWESOME IF YOU DONATE LOTS OF DOLLARZ TODAY. YES I ARE YELLING.
*OK, that’s a baldfaced lie. Sherpa thinks no such thing, because Sherpa is a cat, ergo his ego is invincible. But he feels you anyway, man.