“You were with other cats today. I can smell them on you,” he said, sniffing her arm.
“I was visiting someone who had cats.”
“You were petting them.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was it like petting me. Or Jinx?”
“How could it be? You’re different cats. I was just petting them.”
“How many cats?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I just want to know how loyal you are?”
“I mean if you go around petting everyone you see, then how does that make any of us special?”
“I didn’t know cat’s wanted to feel special.”
“Actually,” he said, “it’s more of an ownership kind of thing. You belong to us and I just don’t want other cats to think you’re available.”
“What, in all the furry paws and tails, are you talking about?”
“This food is good,” he said. “Get more of it.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
He flicked his tail. “People used to worship us as gods, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“We’re still gods. People just got too self involved to think of anyone but themselves. Life was better when they knew who was important.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, looking away.
“I love you,” she said.
“Did you tell the new cats that as well?”
She swallowed a smile and ran her hand down his back. “I could never love anyone the way I love you.”
He turned his back on her.
“Hey Jinx,” she said. “Haven’t seen you for awhile.”
Jinx rubbed against her legs.
“Tell Jinx what you did.”
“I didn’t DO anything.”
“She petted other cats at someone’s house,” he said.
“Did you?” asked Jinx, staring at her.
“I did. The women I was visiting, save feral cats.”
“That’s wonderful,” he said, but do you love them too? I mean it’s okay if you do, but I think we should know.”
“I love all cats as a species, okay. But you and your gang live in my heart.”
“Good enough for me,” said Jinx, “and thank you for the food and treats.”
“You’re always welcome. I’m glad you stayed over last night. I enjoyed having you sleep on my pillow.”
“I liked it too,” he purred. “Gotta run. See you tomorrow.”
She scratched his face and watched him dash away. “How long are you going to pout?”
“Cats don’t pout. Ever.”
“Then you’re the first one to do it.”
He turned around. “Are you going to see them again?”
“Do they have a good home?”
“I’m happy for them,” he said. “I wish more cat’s had good homes.”
She threw her arms around him and kissed him allover his face and shoulders.”
“Get off of me,” he hissed. “Too much, too much.”
“Well, you wanted love and that’s the way I love you.”
“Fine, but not all at once. I’d hate to rip your face off.”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Probably not,” he admitted.
“You can stay at my place as long as you want. You can live there, you know that. So can Jinx and any of the cats who want to move in.”
“I do know that. We all do.”
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, grabbing her tote bag, kissing him one more time. “Love you.”
“Whatever,” he said, curling into a ball. “We could use more blankets.”
“I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
And then he fell into a dream.
My cousins take in feral cats. Their entire basement, which is beautiful, is dedicated to feral cats. They live in the country and when a feral comes to their deck to eat, they put traps out and then bring the cat inside.
All of the cats are sweet and adorable. I was visiting today and took pictures of the ones who were not hiding. My cousins have done this their entire lives and saved more cats than anyone can count. The vet comes to her house and cares for the sweet fuzzy ones. No expense is spared to treat the cats and save their lives.
The gigantic bottom floor where the cats live, is filled with cat trees, about ten huge litter boxes, wonderful shelves, built right under the windows so they can see out and nap on them, huge soft round beds and hiding places, little tents and toys. In the first picture you can see the clean dishes waiting in the sink. The entire place is immaculate. I mean squeaky clean and there’s no odor. The cats are wonderful. The one below loves the sink and he was the first one I saw when I walked in. Adorable. I’ll post more later on.
These terracotta figures were made to Emperor Quin Shi Huang in the next world. They were buried with him and, according to the belief of their culture, they would be there when he needed them. But we have unearthed them and removed them, as we do with everything we find and want for ourselves, using science, art, greed, or archeology as an excuse to basically take what we want.
We know absolutely NOTHING AT ALL about happens after we die. So, here’s the thing…what if a person’s spirit/afterlife is effected by taking away the things he believed in when he was alive? What if the statues, imbued with magic, or belief, actually DID protect the Emperor in the afterlife. What if, when people decide to did up those who were buried with ritual that was meaningful to all involved, we break a bond that ties the person to life on the other side. We can’t know that isn’t possible.
Humans never seem think about anyone but themselves. Instead of being buried where they belong, the bodies and relics of the dead, are in well lit museums, where they are stared at, touched, cleaned, and everything the dead cared about, is erased by the living, as if the living had the right to do so.
What do we respect? Pretty much nothing…not even the wishes of the dead. Life seems to be all about US and what we want.
Seems wrong, somehow. I wonder how archeologists would like to have the people they love dug up, taken them away, and put on display. Just because people died a long time ago, doesn’t mean their wishes are null and void.
Grave robbers rob because there’s money in it.
The bottom line is that nothing is safe from us, not even in dead.
Photo: Aaron Greenwood
Today is the 122nd birthday of the sculptor Louise Nevelson. He works are so intricate, so mechanical, I am attracted to the uniformity, the monochromatic color, and the scale. That entire sculpture is painted black. The world is a better place because she was in it and still feels the loss that she has left. […]Happy 122nd Birthday Louise Nevelson — Waldina
Photo Jan Kim