All of the cats I’ve assisted, no matter what their original origin, were, or are, part Irish. We do St. Patrick’s Day big in this house.
It’s all because of El Hub. He’s part Irish, so the cats are Irish. If we had a fish or a parrot or a dog, they would be part Irish too.
Tabs fully embraced this part of his identity. You know he loved any holiday involving merriment, rainbows, gold and copious amounts of corned beef and cabbage. Plus, he loved how he looked in green, so that may have been part of it. Each and every one of his St. Patrick’s Day outfits matched his eyes.
I think for a while there he even meowed with an Irish accent.
When we took Rosie out this morning, I told her we were looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, so of course she took out her Periodic Table and looked up the atomic mass of gold.
I told her we were also looking for four-leaf clovers, and then she went into the statistical probabilities of us finding one…
Odds were not good.