Life with cats

The only pet I had for any length of time as a child was a hamster. But I never really fed it myself unless I felt like it. And it got lost.

Meanwhile, my cat Ezio, whose welfare is entirely in my hands and therefore makes me infinitely more invested and attached:

Ezio is one of two cats I take care if who do nothing but eat, groom, watch birds, and lounge around.

The other one is Simba:

These two freeloading houseguests with bottomless pits for stomachs have taught me how to be responsible. And I am filled with love and affection for them.

Life with cats.


There is a tendency for us to add things to our lives, thinking that each new addition is the solution. But sometimes via negativa is the answer, subtraction of the non-essential.

“What did you give up for Lent?” is a small-talk question currently in vogue. Try it as an ice-breaker before Easter renders it irrelevant again.

I don’t believe in writing prodigies. You aren’t a good writer just because you’ve read the dictionary cover-to-cover. You can make up for it by reading a lot of other books, but words are empty until you’ve lived their meaning.

I have a lot to say until I’m staring at the empty page.

I read this article that claims that caustic ash — in this case, applied to the foreheads of the faithful — was acidic. What a basic mistake. Where are our journalistic standards?

I had no ending for this, so I take a little bow.