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Everyone is someone’s favorite, even if the only Someone is God. But Mario…Mario was everyone’s favorite.
Kittens are kittens, until they are not. It’s for hard-hitting facts like this that you turn to Felis Catus.
The Odd Squad at Tabby’s Place has zero mere members. It does, however, have 100 co-captains.
There’s an expression I keep hearing this summer: “You just do you.” Or, turned around, “I gotta do me.”
Here’s a pleasant thought: you are older than you’ve ever been. And now you’re even older.*
Or is that phoenii? Whatever the plural form of those birds that rise from ashes, stronger and better and more beautiful than pre-pyre, we’ve met more magical creatures this summer.
If you have been, say, looking for some hot stuff, baby, this evening; perhaps even looking for some hot stuff, baby, tonight; this July has surely pleased you. The news was incendiary. The temperatures were ghost-peppery. And the cats were sizzling.
Now this is just ridiculous. People seeking the highest office in the land may call each other losers and liars, but even they have the good sense not to excrete upon their opponents. Cats have no such decorum.
Sometime after Snowtober, we got funny about power at Tabby’s Place. Not the kind that corrupts. Not the power of the people. Not even the power to change. Just that simple, sacred power that keeps our light bulbs lit and our Pop Tarts toasty.