So I made a quick trip to the third rock this weekend and look what I saw! And you, too, fellow, planetarians and Martians, can see it in its full splendiferous and colourful magnificence on SBS TV tonight at 8.30. Any minute now, in fact, if you live in the southern states with their funny hour-ahead cult of the sun. Probably on SBS on Demand, too, maybe, perhaps, check it out anyway. And if you need more about Mardi Gras – and who doesn’t? – check out the Mardi Gras website.
And don’t forget to remember as you count sheep to sleep tonight, and every night, that love is all there is, really, in the end, and forever and always. That’s what we kittens remember, and also, tuna melts on sourdough with just a hint of parsley and a sprinkle of freshly crushed peppercorn, yeah …
Too soon to revisit Selfieville and its strange inhabitants wherever they may find themselves? I think not. And the sooner little Brutus realises that, like Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, he may be little but he’s totes fierce, the sooner he can flee that rather gorgeous flytrap of an island and get his own Dogagram account.
Unless, of course, his human frenemy, Tasty McMeatus is about to become his very closest chum, if you know what I mean.
In the good old bad old days – tens of millions of years ago, deep time they call it – there were reptilian types strolling around the colder regions. Not because they had access to beautiful Cornelius furs and could rug up, grasshopper, but because the polar regions were little greenhouses back then.
Check out this article about ye olde climatic conditions, taken from an essay in the New Scientist, if I’m not mistaken, but you don’t have to subscribe to this one to read it. It’s very interesting, and a little scary. What more could you desire, my dears?
While I’m not given to effusive celebrations here on the red planet at this time of year, I fully appreciate the excitement gathering speed on the third rock.
I well remember Mama and Papa and my sibling, Sibmo, enjoying each other’s company way, way back when we’d dip a delicate paw into the backyard pool before emptying it so we could stretch out and sleep on those cool, cool yule tiles in the midst of tropical summer heatwaves.
And is there anything more sublime than Bill Evans on the old CD player as you barbecue your tuna steaks and sip a delicate and frothy tunanog while swaying along to one of the coolest dudes in the jazziverse? I think there is not, my dearest friends, so I’m off to get in some practice before the big day in my rainbow robes of wondrous, all-inclusive hue.
Meanwhile, let’s all send healing vibes of peaceful energy from wherever we may be to surround and suffuse little mother Earth with kindness and the calming balm of love. I mean it, dudes, let’s start vibing the positive before the place does itself an irreversible injury, okay?! Okay-a-rooney.
Currently, my dear friends, and others, I communicate with you from this year’s movable convention (and tuna smorgasbord) of fellow Last Cats:
Last Cat On Mercury (very sweaty, and living on a transiting show-off and shrinking domicile, too, but more to the point, how do cats perspire? Let’s pause a moment and answer with: paws – who knew? Well, me, naturally, teehee),
Last Cat On Venus (always trying a new dating app – sigh – and you should see the litter left by the last tenants),
Last Cat On Saturn (who actually lives on Titan, Saturn’s moon, in the Dunes of Shangri-La: ‘biggest litterbox in the universe,’ so Dr On Saturn tells me),
Last Cat On Uranus (a somewhat mysterious member of our troupe, but very happy to live on a rainbow-y planet even if it overcompensates somewhat with those 15 moons – 15, jeez),
Last Cat On Neptune (and it’s just as well Dr On Neptune is a Russian Blue, if this image from Voyager 2 is anything to go by), and last but never least,
Last Cat On Pluto (not a dwarf planet, never ever a dwarf planet, but a proud and bewildering solar system perennial: brought to you by Puffer-Upperers of Piddly Planets Way Out There Somewhere, of which Dr On Pluto is Chair, Vice-Chair, Secretary, Treasurer, and Committee Members, okay? Okay.).
Take a breath, sisters, brothers, and others.
So, as I tuck into my lovely and luscious outer space tuna delicacies, please enjoy a snapshot from my dear little pals, Rita and Frank. Bon voyage!