1. Cats have a special "language" for humans.
Cats typically don’t meow to communicate with other cats—they reserve it for interacting with humans! Each cat develops unique sounds and patterns to get their owner's attention.
2. They can make over 100 sounds.
While dogs can produce about 10 distinct sounds, cats can make more than 100, ranging from meows to growls and purrs.
3. Cats sleep a lot.
Cats spend around 12-16 hours a day sleeping. This is because they are crepuscular, meaning they are most active during dawn and dusk, saving energy for their hunting instincts.
4. A cat’s nose print is unique.
Like human fingerprints, a cat’s nose has a unique pattern that can identify them.
5. They "knead" for comfort.
When cats push their paws into soft surfaces, it's called "kneading." This behavior originates from kittenhood when they knead their mother’s belly to stimulate milk flow.
6. They can jump incredibly high.
A cat can jump up to six times its body length in a single leap! This is due to their powerful hind leg muscles.
7. Cats can't taste sweetness.
Unlike humans, cats lack the taste receptors for sweet flavors, so sugary treats don’t appeal to them.
8. They were worshipped in ancient Egypt.
Soft hours
Between the hours of 2-3:30 in the AM where you become a mushy loving, uncontrollable mess. Where you say sentimental things you maybe regret/ deny saying later that same morning.
.... have said: "Let it be known that after the hour of ten, we should not expect any worthwhile content, for the evening shadows lengthen and our faculties wane."
📚🔔 Tatil zili çaldı!
Bir yıl boyunca verilen emeklerin ardından şimdi dinlenme, keşfetme ve yeni maceralara atılma zamanı. 🌞
Bu yaz bol kahkahalı, bol anılı ve elbette bol kitaplı geçsin. Tüm öğrencilere keyifli tatiller diliyoruz! 💙📖
Ode to Psyche
O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conched ear:
Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see
The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes?
I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,
Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof
Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran
A brooklet, scarce espied:
Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,
Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,
They lay calm-breathing, on the bedded grass;
Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;
Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,
As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,
And ready still past kisses to outnumber
At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:
The winged boy I knew;
But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?
His Psyche true!
O latest born and loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!
Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-region'd star,
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinéd flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barréd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft