May it never be forgotten. And “auld lang syne” and all that good stuff.
While we’re at it, let’s take a cup of kindness, too.
May it never be forgotten. And “auld lang syne” and all that good stuff.
While we’re at it, let’s take a cup of kindness, too.
Funny thing, this business of ownership.
These pink polka-dot socks on my feet are mine. The half-finished cup vat of green tea on my desk is mine. Your patience with my strange sense of humor is all yours (bless your heart). But in what sense - if any - is a cat really yours or mine? Do we - can we - ever own a living, feeling soul wrapped in purr and fur and awesomeness?
It has taken me two weeks to get the emotional strength to write this post. I figured I had cried myself dry and I knew that putting this down on “paper” would reopen the wounds. But it had to happen.
Today is the day.
It’s always with fear and trembling that we dare to move a new cat into the realm of Her Highness, Pepper.
Like us, these new cats seem to realize that our tortie beauty demands deserves her own space. One after the next, Pepper’s former roommates have inexplicably moved out of Jonathan’s Pepper’s office to become Lobby cats.
The latest of Pepper’s exiles just might be the most comical Community Cat we’ve met in a long time. Meet Milo.
Whereas: only 9% of cats in Tabby’s Place history have been tortoiseshells.
Whereas: we are presently graced with no fewer than six torties.
Resolved: this is cause for massive celebration.