Meow Meow

Can you believe it? My babies are 11 months old — nearly a year of chaos, charm, and criminally cute behavior. They climb higher, nap harder, and sass with bold confidence — a clear reflection of their stunning, brilliant, and impressive mother.

Meow

 when the editor leaves
her wearable blanket unattended

Meow Meow

I’ve been thinking of my Persian cousins lately — resilient, beautiful, and terribly underappreciated, much like myself. In that reflective mood, I came across a wandering human from long ago who traveled almost as impressively as I once did. Here’s his poem:

Human beings are members of a whole,

In creation of one essence and soul.

If one member is afflicted with pain,

Other members uneasy will remain.

If you have no sympathy for human pain,

The name of human you cannot retain.

And here's his poem again, rendered in a more civilized tongue: my own.

Spun from one heart, one purr, one shared thread of fur,

When one soul cries out in pain,

The rest should feel the ripple through their whiskers.

If pain doesn’t twitch your whiskers or soften your paws,

Then you are unworthy of warm laps — or noble company.

Meow

 

Meow Meow

 

Meow

 

Meow Meow

My kittens turned ten months old today. I made these perfect creatures... and raised them. The human assisted... and I allowed it. You're welcome.