The Cult of Cats

Recently, we acquired two young cats in order to pacify the gopher population. Gophers, as you probably know, as a species are bent on world domination. There will come a day when they will rule this earth with bucktooth and claw, burrowing their way to the White House, the Kremlin, and 10 Downing Street. However, that won’t be any time soon, so I’m not too concerned, though I suspect the addition of a gopher to the current 2012 slate of possible presidential candidates might be a positive thing.

The cats, though youthful, have already started to prove their hunting mettle. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they have singled out a stepping-stone in the backyard. As far as I can tell, it has become their altar. They leave on it occasional nightly offerings of severed tails and limbs. I’m not entirely certain, but I suspect they think we, the humans, are deities. Perhaps I am the kindly god of Kibbles & Bits? At any rate, I accept their offerings, even though I cannot forgive whatever sins they have amassed in their short, feline lives.

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