Ode to Spot
(Though Supposedly Really By Brannon Braga)
Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature;
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.
I spent the autumnal equinox mostly doing unexciting things, though I got outside again to enjoy the weather, which was gorgeous, and met friends in the mall for bubble tea and raiding a bit after lunch. (I spent an hour in AC Moore and wound up not buying a single thing, which is either a major failure or a big success depending on whether decoration or saving money is the priority.) I don't care whether McCain opposed the health non-care bill out of principle or ego; I'm still glad.
Maddy had to work all day and into the evening while we had dinner with my parents, then came home to catch up on The Orville, which I thought was pretty great...okay, scientifically ridiculous and in some ways infuriating but I could say the same thing about the several Next Gen episodes of which it reminded me. Now it's the end of the UVA game. From the now-closed National Zoo Invertebrate House and the Smithsonian Insect Zoo (warning, spider):