That means [the kitten] was only a week and a half old when he wandered into my brother’s garage, and it’s a very good thing he did because he was way too young to have been separated from his mother.

Pickrell’s poetry pays homage to the ordinary, the daily events that so many of us ignore. She takes the time to appreciate the small things and her devotion to the Oakland A’s reminded me of my dad’s devotion to the New York Mets.

On Wednesday, my spouse, Kati, made Irish soda bread for dinner. While she mixed the dough in the dining room, Dante, our youngest cat,...

I was not a cat person. It’s not that I hated cats. It was more that I’m allergic to them and having grown up with a dog, I preferred...