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Who, exactly, is this cat we call Sophia? She’s answering that question in her own good time.
Everything old is new again. That isn’t, however, due to it being January. That’s due to the sunrise every morning, and the hope that years can’t hinder…and the cats that keep coming.
As the song* has it, the body remembers what the mind forgets. But the reverse is also true.
Yesterday we celebrated a life shorter but sweeter than anyone wished or expected. Today, we meet another cat eviscerating expectations, Arizona-style.
Whatever we expect from them, cats excel at scrambling our expectations. Perhaps this is one of their great gifts.
Lyrical gangsta and all-around awesome human Albert Schweitzer supposedly said the following: “There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats.”
One of the first birthday presents I remember receiving was a Casio keyboard. Although this did not launch me to the levels of Keyboard Cat or Nora, it helped prepare me for Anneke and Mimi.
I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom and a baby-like bleating pipes up. I lean over the baby gate into my craft room and he meows again, more softly. “Hello, Domino!” I call, and he meows again with such little volume it’s no more than his mouth opening and a whisker wiggle.
We live in an age in which it’s easy to be famous. That’s unfortunate, because being famous is hard.
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.