So you look like a BoyBucca. So you’re the right age for a boy band. What are you gonna do with all this awesomeness?
It was a stinktacular Saturday at Tabby’s Place. The septic pump failed. All laundry and toilet-time activities were shut down. And to top it off, we were in very real danger of creating fake news.
Quite a lot happened this week in history. The Feast Day of St. Francis. The Battle of Largs. The births of Gandhi and Vaclav Havel and Sting. The 14th anniversary of Tabby’s Place.
It is 5,059 miles from Istanbul, Turkey to Ringoes, New Jersey. For astonishing Anka, it wasn’t an inch too far.
To be loved for who we are — this is what we long for, live for, were put on this earth to taste. Sometimes, though, we have to stomach counterfeit love before the real thing locks into place.
“Playing well with others” isn’t everyone’s core competency. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. But, in the case of one Simba Rosenberg, there’s one way to strengthen those social muscles: surround yourself with a slew of new neighbors. Tara tells the tale today. – A.H.
Editrix’s note: nothing I could possibly write could add to the beauty of this update. Special thanks to Tabby’s Place volunteer/adopter/extraordinary human bean Karin, Boots‘ longtime Special Needs correspondent, for penning this triumphant farewell. — A.H.
I never quite understood the phenomenon of Christmas in July. If you’re really into Christmas, why not keep it rolling all year long?
It’s Hungry Ghost Month in the Chinese lunar calendar. It’s Hungry Ghost Millennium in the Tabby’s Place Lounge.