October 16th was National Feral Cat Day. October 16th was also Boss’s Day. Coincidence?*
As you surely know, our country — that is, the United States of America — is presently closed. It’s Government Shutdown time, and it’s a cryin’ shame.* Fortunately, Tabby’s Place is a sovereign nation.
If you want to be inspired and/or vaguely nauseated today, revisit your high school yearbook and read the seniors’ “favorite quotes.” I bet you all the Mumfords and their sons* that someone will say, “Dance like nobody’s watching,” and someone else will say “Live, Laugh, Love!” I bet you all the stripes on every tabby […]
When is a post that’s not about Tabby’s Place actually, in fact, about Tabby’s Place? When it’s about the Tabby’s Place cat who didn’t quite become a Tabby’s Place cat…for the best possible reason.
It has come. October. But before we can properly begin the month of Tabby’s Place’s 10th anniversary and our 1st Halloween in three years without a major natural disaster, we’ve got some ‘splaining to do about September.
You know it’s autumn when you suddenly see galumphing hordes of gourds. Gourds at roadside stands. Gourds in the supermarket. Gourds in disturbingly-perfect centerpieces on Pinterest. Gourds in Suite FIV.
Certain creatures have been known to hide. Naked mole rats. Slow lorises. Scared cats. Scared humans.
No two creatures wake up in exactly the same way. Beatrice yawns and stretches for 5-10 minutes before she can properly be called “awake.” Sinatra goes from coma to “I’ve just had 45 espressos” in 3 seconds. But this wide variation is equally true of the waking soul.
Fire up those neurons, because I’m about to say something profound: Everyone is different.
Surgeon general’s warning: if you have an allergy to happiness, warm fuzzies and/or having your faith in humanity restored, you may want to avert your eyes from the following.