Today I need to talk about my cats

 

Today I need to talk about cats.

Not in a “I accidentally sat in your sun spot and now we’re no longer on speaking terms” kind of way.
But in a slow down, breathe, and let the world soften for a minute kind of way.

When the day gets loud — when life feels confusing, rushed, and a little sideways — cats already know the answer.
They don’t try to fix the chaos.
They curl up inside it and turn it into calm.

That’s what these wonderland cat towers feel like to me.
Not just furniture, but little doorways.
Mushrooms you don’t eat.
Platforms you don’t rush across.
Places where time slows and your shoulders finally drop.

I watch my feline siblings — Ollie, Brenda, and Nellie — and I learn things I didn’t even know I needed.

Ollie, my graceful girl, reminds me that confidence doesn’t need permission.
She moves through the world quietly but with certainty, claiming her space and then settling into it like she always knew it was hers.

Brenda teaches me tenderness.
Her soft purrs, her gentle head bumps — she has a way of telling you “you are safe right now” without ever saying a word.

And Nellie… sweet, curious Nellie.
She shows me that wonder isn’t chaos — it’s hope.
She climbs, she explores, she perches above it all, watching the world like it’s a story still unfolding.

Cats don’t demand answers from the world.
They accept it as it is and find the softest place within it.

Love doesn’t ask what species you are.
It doesn’t care how old you are or how different you look.
It crosses generations.
It crosses species.
It crosses moments when life feels heavy and confusing.

Sometimes love looks like a dog sitting among mushroom towers, learning from cats who already understand the magic.

And sometimes — when the world feels like too much — all it takes is a purr, a gentle touch, and a little wonder to remind us that everything will be okay.

With love,
Harry 🐾