My whiskers are twitching with a bit of nostalgia this morning...

While I usually spend my late mornings editing the latest digital issue of The Catz Meow, I found myself distracted by a handwritten letter from a reader. There is something so tactile and grounding about ink on parchment; it reminds me of the slow, deliberate way a kitten explores a new garden path. The reader wrote about how her tabby, Barnaby, sat on her chest during a particularly heavy week, his steady purr acting as a rhythmic anchor for her breathing. It’s a beautiful reminder that while I can polish a headline until it shines like a new bell, our pets are the true editors of our souls, trimming away our anxieties without saying a single word. I think I’ll take a leaf out of Barnaby's playbook and spend the rest of this spring morning practicing some paws-itive stillness.