A Royal Reflection by Princess Gracie
Greetings, humble humans and moderately competent gnome assistants. It’s me again—Princess Gracie, royal narrator of the Gnomeward Bound chronicles, professional sun-patch critic, and keeper of the porch perimeter.
Today, October 29, the USA celebrates National Cat Day, which I personally find redundant, since every day is obviously about cats. Still, I approve of any excuse for extra chin-scratches, tuna tributes, and poetic musings on feline superiority.
Let’s review some important facts:
Origins: This day was founded in 2005 by pet and family lifestyle expert Colleen Paige in the United States to raise awareness of the many cats in need of forever homes.
Purpose: Beyond the revelry of purring and play-time, National Cat Day serves a mission: celebrating the cats that enrich our lives and shining a light on those that have yet to find one.
Global context: While in the U.S. we mark October 29, other countries observe similar feline festivities on different dates (for instance, Japan celebrates on February 22—because “nyan nyan nyan” sounds like “meow meow meow”).
Some humans think cats merely observe. In truth, we orchestrate. I, for example, supervise the writing of several books while maintaining a rigorous schedule of naps, contemplation, and mystical gazing. I also keep a private diary of cat poetry, naturally written in paw-print shorthand, chronicling the deeper thoughts of the feline mind—sunbeams, existential hairballs, and the eternal mystery of closed doors.
So, on this National Cat Day, I urge you to honor your household felines properly:
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Provide sunbeam access without interruption.
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Offer tributes of finely shredded salmon or tuna.
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And most importantly, listen when we stare at you. We are not judging—we are transmitting wisdom.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my window post to ensure the world remains in balance. You’re welcome.
With regal restraint and occasional zoomies,
Princess Gracie 🐾
“Serving looks and storylines since forever.”
📜 Excerpt from the Princess’s Private Poetry Diary (“Accidentally Leaked”)
The sun knows my name.
It writes it in gold on the floor.
You call it a nap—
I call it worship.
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