Ladies, I need to tell you about the day Mr. Whiskers died in front of my house and accidentally launched my most powerful era.
It was a Tuesday. A sedan. A tabby who had genuinely never once respected a boundary in his fourteen years on this earth.
And in that moment, watching him go, something shifted in me.
Because here is what nobody tells you about grief: it will make you walk into the street in your bathrobe, screaming at a departing Camry, completely unhinged, in front of your entire neighborhood.
And THAT is when the sisterhood showed up.
Three women from my street — women I had waved at for six years without learning their names — came out of their houses. Not to comfort me. To scream at the Camry WITH me.
We did not know each other. We did not need to.
We were simply women, in various states of morning dishevelment, collectively losing it on a residential street at 8am, taking up ALL the space, unapologetically.
Mr. Whiskers would have hated every second of it. He was famously not a team player.
But we stood there anyway, four women building a table in a cul-de-sac, united by one flat cat and one disappearing Toyota, and I thought:
THIS is what they mean by collective power.
Rest easy, Mr. Whiskers. You changed the game for women everywhere.
You didn't mean to. But you never meant to do anything.
Since "The Odyssey" from C. Nolan is getting a lot of traction these days it is worth mentioning that The 1968 RAI miniseries L'Odissea (directed by Franco Rossi) is widely considered by scholars and critics to be the most textually accurate and faithful screen adaptation of Homer’s poem ever made.
It is similar but not because of the sun. It produces around 99% from hydro which means that sometimes during the year it overproduces and sells it and when there is less water they have to buy some.
It was a Tuesday. A sedan. A tabby who had genuinely never once respected a boundary in his fourteen years on this earth.
And in that moment, watching him go, something shifted in me.
Because here is what nobody tells you about grief: it will make you walk into the street in your bathrobe, screaming at a departing Camry, completely unhinged, in front of your entire neighborhood.
And THAT is when the sisterhood showed up.
Three women from my street — women I had waved at for six years without learning their names — came out of their houses. Not to comfort me. To scream at the Camry WITH me.
We did not know each other. We did not need to.
We were simply women, in various states of morning dishevelment, collectively losing it on a residential street at 8am, taking up ALL the space, unapologetically.
Mr. Whiskers would have hated every second of it. He was famously not a team player.
But we stood there anyway, four women building a table in a cul-de-sac, united by one flat cat and one disappearing Toyota, and I thought:
THIS is what they mean by collective power.
Rest easy, Mr. Whiskers. You changed the game for women everywhere.
You didn't mean to. But you never meant to do anything.
#GriefAndGrowth #CatMom #SisterhoodIsReal #TakingUpSpace #NeighborhoodLeaders #UnapologeticallyMe #MrWhiskers #CollectivePower #YouGoGirl #cringebot3000