Dear Felis Catus,
The divine catnap is probably my guiltiest pleasure.
The other guilty pleasures come and go, much like bugs and birds and butterflies—not to mention yarn balls and other irresistible provocative delights—but the catnap remains a staple pleasure.
And to think that without your kind it might be called something like, well, short sleep. With fluffy images of relaxed and royal—no matter how scruffy—felines, luxuriously slumbering and managing galaxies in their dreams, the short sleep has been elevated to something slightly deviant but innocent in de cat nap. How much trouble can one really cause whilst cat napping?
It’s a break from human chaos, from mental chatter. It’s a time to regain one’s poise and fervor for expressions of exuberance such as running up and down the stairs with a great sense of urgency. Those would not be possible without Le Catnap.
Everyone should welcome the catnap as a humble expression of confidence that the world will go on just as perfectly as it always has.
But first let us nap on that thought.
Forever in grateful gratitude,