Gattare 4 life.
Like how I did that? It makes this newsletter sound so gangsta to have a number in place of a word.
WARNING for those who are not animal lovers, this is going to be a critter-heavy newsletter.
I apologize to all of y'all who have a particular aversion to cats. I can't relate; I've always enjoyed them. In fact, my first word was kitty-cat. It helps that my father is one of those somewhat rare men who prefers cats to dogs and we always had a feline family member in the house for as long as I can remember. Some were better companions than others; Smoky was a fluff ball Himalayan that snuggled my infant brother in his crib, Brock was named after my favorite uncle but sadly disappeared, we inherited one cat (whose name escapes me) that hated and avoided children, two sister kittens who chewed holes in our sweaters, but the king of all Nettleton family kitties was Kato. We called him "The Killer" because he decapitated squirrels and baby ducks. And yet, I didn't hesitate to let him sleep on my neck.
It might be that I've grown to need a cat in my life. I've been going through a round of treatments in therapy that, at times, leave me feeling mentally and emotionally depleted and often physically spent. In an effort to help me manage the negative feelings that get dredged up in these times, my therapist had me compile a short list of "resources" or safe people that I can trust to provide support when I need it. One of those resources is not a person, but our family cat, June. I actually do rely on her to help me when good vibes are hard to come by. Gwyneth can keep her energy boosting crystals and mushrooms. On sad days I rely on one of my buddies instead: my purring, literally vibrating cat.
Our sabbatical trip included many cat encounters! Rome has hundreds of thousands of cat residents and we visited a few of them at the Torre Argentina Cat Sanctuary where cat ladies (Gattare) feed and care for strays and set them up for adoption. These temple ruins turned cat haven were the location of Julius Caesar's murder on the Ides of March back in 44 BC.
We made pals with gatti all over the city; the kids fed their salami snacks to farm cats on the stone walls of the ancient Appian Way, played papparazzi with a grumpy ginger napping inside the Coliseum walls and rubbed the chins of roaming tabbies beside the headstones of Keats and Shelley at the Protestant Cemetery. Felis catus even turned up looking for friendship in the ruins of the villas and alleyways of Pompeii!
Just in case you need convincing that you should open your heart to furry creatures, perhaps Job's words will be more persuasive than mine:
"But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind."
Job 12:7-10
We can certainly agree on one thing, cats should not be forced to wear Halloween costumes. I don't know if PETA holds a position on this, but I may need their help since ideas for June's dress-up options are being floated already. Clearly we're boycotting Emmett's creative suggestion that she be styled as a barrel of toxic waste, but the jury's out on Peter's idea that she go as Dua Lipa. Visualize that all you want.
Thanks for reading, friends.