Every once in a great while, you feel the tectonic plates of life shift. It may start with a groan or a whimper, but the next thing you know the continents are different, and there are mountains where oceans once stretched. I am, of course, talking about cats.
Mashed taters: eaten. Great uncles and aunties: kissed. November: accomplished.
There was a time when Tabby’s Place had a full-size Christmas tree in our lobby, all aglitter with sparkly bits and bobs and luminous light. There was also a time when pterodactyls soared above the earth. And then came the Community Cats.
Be it known that Tabby’s Place does not condone forcing people to work on Thanksgiving just so that other people can buy sweaters. Be it also known that Tabby’s Place enthusiastically condones forcing humans to work on Black Friday just so that other people can adopt cats.
Tabby’s Place likes when people adopt cats. We love it when people adopt two cats. We soar into beatific rapture when people adopt three cats.
This is the time of many seasons. The season of twinkly lights. The season of smiling (which is my favorite, too). The season of pfefferneuse and Nativity scenes and peace on earth everywhere except the mall.
Not all freedoms deserve the name of “liberty.” You are technically free to eat cup after cup of Floam. No one can legally stop you from watching Pootie Tang on a continual 24-hour loop. And our Founding Fathers secured for you the right to walk around Manhattan with pretzel rods in your mouth while telling […]
I’ve heard it said that sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together. Put differently, sometimes our dreams have to change to be worth coming true. As always, this applies as much to humans as to cats.
Where did your cat come from? This is not a trick question. OK, this is not a trick question in the same way that Anchorman is not a masterpiece and Cinnabons are not lethal. Which is to say, of course, that it totally is.