Our Oldest Cat

MURPHY IS NOT long for this world. He’s withering and scabrous, and it’s painful to pet him. But he gets around. He shows clearly he’s aware and wants to interact with us and the other cats. He runs the place and gives us human servants of his a good ration of shit when we get out of line.

After having to decide whether and when to euthanize so many of our cats, Toni put this one on me. Murph was my cat from kittenhood, so it’s only appropriate. You should, in the words of Robert Heinlein, be prepared to shoot your own dog (or cat). Farming it out doesn’t make it better, it makes it worse. However…

I am virulent on the side of life. I look at nature in her profligate fecundity and find a guide for living. Life — with the capital “L” is the expression of the rage of living things against the darkness. Life is a blanket that covers the Earth and appears like to fill the Universe. Life must grow or die, must be fruitful and multiply or wither and fade. There is no steady state.

I have never bought the overpopulation myth. The ones who promote it amount to a death cult. They want to stop Life in its tracks, freeze its growth, and roll it back to pre-[industrial|civilization|human existence] levels. Oh, they claim to care about the environment, but they care about it about the way Fred Saberhagen’s Berserker machines cared about “Goodlife.”
To be a judas goat to enable them to kill more humans.

Homey don’ play dat.

Increase populations. Increase agriculture. Be fruitful and multiply until we cover the earth and the pressure squeezes us out into space. Grow economies. Make every man rich.

And don’t kill your pets until they’re damned well good and ready to die.

Flea quotes and posts a thumbnail sketch of a feline warrior for Life. As he writes in his headline, Try to be Ugly.

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