Allow me to introduce myself: I am Typo, the cat. Think Behemoth with a pinch of ginger. Actually, think Behemoth if he were blue-eyed and all white with a dash of orange, otherwise known as a flame-point. You could say that. Flame. Point. Nothing like Behemoth, then. Doesn’t matter. I read your books while you sleep. I hide all your socks. I hide them good.

 

  • Do you like zines? I love zines. My favourite is Cats Hate Cops. The name says it all. For some extra info on cats and even some more zines, visit Cats & Zines; it will bring meaning to your fickle existence. ‘Zine’ is such a funny word. Zzzzine. Sibilants make my whiskers tremble.

 

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OMG that cat is totally having a go at that cop car! I prefer string toys. In any case, here are two pawsome (yes, I went there) cat stories:

 

  • ‘Lillian was telling her daughter about the period in her life when she killed cats. “I had a system going. I would bait a Have-a-Heart trap with a bit of sardine on a saucer and put it out in the yard just before retiring. In the morning, I would hurry out in my bathrobe, and if I was successful, which I almost always was, I’d place the trap with its disbelieving victim on the step at the shallow end of the swimming pool and in less than thirty seconds, maybe twenty, that would be that.” Toby was barely listening to her. She was looking at her mother’s permed hair, which resembled molded plastic.’ This Joy Williams story on Catapult is amazing. But c’mon, Lillian. Not Cool. Not. Cool.

 

  • ‘Six months after Gattino disappeared my husband and I were sitting in a restaurant having dinner with some people he had recently met, including an intellectual writer we both admired. The writer had considered buying the house we were living in and he wanted to know how we liked it. I said it was nice but it had been partly spoiled for me by the loss of our cat. I told him the story and he said “Oh, that was your trauma, was it?” I said yes. Yes, it was a trauma.’ From the Grrrranta archive, this essay by Mary Gaitskill is deeply moving. I feel for Gattino. Cats need love, in whichever form it comes.

 

  • In Alain Resnais’s 1968 film, Je t’aime, je t’aime (I Love You, I Love You), Olga Georges-Picot reveals the true purpose of human beings in this world. She gets it. Go on, watch it. Just press play. I can wait.

 

 

  • ‘On the day he killed his master, Sebastian made his way to the city in the middle of the evacuation.’ Robert Repino wrote Mort(e), a very enlightening book on what might happen if you guys don’t behave. Here’s what I looked like after reading it:

 

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  • ‘One of the most attractive features of cats is that contentment is their default state. Unlike human beings – particularly of the modern variety – they do not spend their days in laborious pursuit of a fantasy of happiness. They are comfortable with themselves and their lives, and remain in that condition for as long as they are not threatened. When they are not eating or sleeping, they pass the time exploring and playing, never asking for reasons to live. Life itself is enough for them.’ John Gray dropping some truth bombs for the New Statesman.

 

  • ‘Cats teach you the truth about intimacy: you can never know what is in the mind of another being.’ Ariel Levy dixit. The New Yorker put together a Cats Vs Dogs debate; guess who wins. As if it has ever been a competition. Puhlease.

 

 

  • Just wanna leave some shout outs for my cat crew: Maru likes boxes; Mochi is my bro; Simba is my bro’s bro (we found each other on instagram. True story); Chez is short for Chester; Sunny is just beautiful 😻; Jack Jack is just incredible; Missy disapproves of all of you.

 

*drops mic*

Typo out.

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International Women’s Day 2017
Qualitative Leaps