The Snowshoe Kitten
Curiosity is the purest form of insubordination. - Nabakov * Raising a teeny tiny helpless snowshoe kitten has rendered me a drooling, cooing, mindless thing this winter. I am under the influence of Cuteness. We are surrounded by it. We sleep with Cuteness, dream in Cuteness, speak of Cuteness. Any unsuspecting person who walks through the door is reduced to Cuteness mush. I notice I can't read much these days. The creature of Cute always intervenes. I notice I don't eat much either. And when I leave the house, I indulge in ridiculously long, purry goodbyes. Beauty, yes. Beauty and Truth, yes, yes, yes. Beauty, Camus tells us, is unbearable; it drives us to despair, offering us the mere glimpse of eternity. I can hang my hat on that. But Cuteness ? Kitsch, Kundera tells us, is the absolute denial of shit. I had no choice but do some resear
