Some of you who have been reading my thoughts since I first posted them on Faceplant may know that I was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma of the gums in May, 2014. My human and the vet decided that when it became apparent that I was in pain (as indicated by my not eating) , the kindly vet would come to our compound and give me the good medicine. My human also decided that I would have everything I wanted until that terrible – as far as I’m concerned – day. So, the compound has been on lavish rations: plenty of wet cat food and every now and then, little dabs of whipped cream off our human’s finger. I have been fed in a separate room so that Pigasaurus Cowboy Benez wouldn’t eat my food before I could.
Our human and I have Quality Time every night when she goes to bed. I climb up on the bed with her and anoint the book she is reading by rubbing my face on it. I get to go out whenever I want – except not after it gets dark because there are comrade coyotes in our neighborhood. They can be a little zealous. It has all been swell, except for my departure for the Great Wobbly Meeting in the sky looming over us.
Lo and behold, Boo and Cowboy Benez and I went to the very same vet last week to get our shots. Our human told the kindly vet that I had been eating normally. The vet looked in my mouth and said, “There’s nothing there. It’s gone.” Our human said, “Praise Bast*.” 
As you might guess, I am not a religious feline. After all, as Comrade Karl Marx pointed out: “Religion is the opiate of the people.” Nonetheless, I believe in miracles. How else can anyone explain the spirit and solidarity of the FLF compound and the devotion of our human? (I have included the full Marx quotation below for those of you who are scholars of political history. It is worth thinking about.)
Now, for the Bad News. I find this hard to believe, but someone has written an insulting “listicle” about Annoying Things Only Cat Lovers Do. Please note Item 7. When you write articles from your cat’s point of view. Cats don’t really have well-constructed opinions. They’re animals. A. Our human doesn’t write my pieces. She transcribes them. B. I am careful to use both logic and the power of the dialectic to craft my opinions. I shall give this farcical listicle no more attention, though I rather like the way “farcical” and “listicle” scan.
Today’s mewsing: Never judge another species lest it come back to bite (or claw) you.
Religious distress is at the same time the expression of real distress and the protest against real distress. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is required for their real happiness. The demand to give up the illusion about its condition is the demand to give up a condition which needs illusions. – K. Marx
*Please note that Bast is a black woman cat – very much like our Boo.
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