I do hope all is well with you and yours.

Life here at Wilson College continues to be as lovely as ever, and as the days grow crisper and the leaves begin to turn, I find myself reflecting on the passage of time, especially my own. You see, this year marks a most significant milestone: I am turning 18! Why, if I were human, I would be stepping paw-first onto campus as a bright-eyed first-year student. Indeed, it struck me the other day that I am now the same age as the newest members of our Wilson family. How curious and purrplexing!

I began to imagine what life might be like if I were enrolled here at Wilson. Would I attend lectures? Perhaps I’d curl up in the library, pretending to study while secretly napping atop the books. After all, a catnap a day keeps the stress away. Might I join a club, or better yet, lead one? I can see myself organizing the most exclusive feline society, complete with tea breaks, soft pillows, and naturally, a few catnip treats. And of course, I would strut across the Mistick Quad, tail held high, greeting friends both old and new. Oh, the pawsibilities I would have as a student! Yet, I must admit, I think I would miss my perch in Sharpe House, where I can watch over all of you with the dignity that only a First Feline can maintain.

But time, as it always does, reminds me that I am not the sprightly kitten I once was. While 18 may seem young to some, it is, for a cat such as myself, a venerable age. I have entered the golden years of my life, and with them come the responsibilities of self-care. My days now include a regime of taking my feline medicine, truly an exercise in patience and fortitude. Fortunately, I am in the most capable of hands. I am lucky to have Miss Eileen of the veterinary nursing staff here at Wilson assist my dads with administering my monthly shot. She is simply claw-some, ensuring that I am comfortable and cared for, and she treats me with the respect and gentleness that a First Feline so rightly deserves. Her kindness warms my heart, as much as a cozy windowsill warms my fur.

To those of you who, like myself, are aging like a fine wine (a merlot perhaps, or dare I say, a purr-lot), know that I am with you. Even in these years of dignified age, I find comfort in the familiar: sharing a steaming pot of tea with my dear friend Agatha the groundhog, observing the students as they pass through campus, and enjoying the quiet pleasures of Sharpe House. And I hope, dear reader, that you too will find your way back home to Wilson College soon. My porch is always ready, the cushions are fluffed, and there is always a sunny spot waiting for you to sit and catch up.

With affection and a gentle purr,