It is not wise to accuse a cat of being late. Or early. Or a fan of Nicki Minaj. Or otherwise wrong. Especially if said cat is Elmo.
There are certain offers you can’t refuse. They come from barrel-chested men with names like Vito and Luca. There are other offers you can…but only if you’re a dang fool (of the sort pitied by this gentleman). These offers come from golden felines who just might be the Brad Pitt of cats.
There are no sacred cows at Tabby’s Place. And, when one turns up, it tends to get promptly barbequed.
Target has Missoni and Jason Wu. H&M has Versace and Marni. But only Tabby’s Place has Webster.
Your eyes do not deceive you. Nor did I type this after my 7th cosmopolitan. This is all about the bokeh of a certain North Jersey city.
What a piece of work is cat. One comes to Tabby’s Place “feral,” untouchable and uninterested in humanity (as the story goes). One comes to the sanctuary with a rap sheet of offenses, all in the general bucket of “attempting to annihilate one’s own species.” And then they both just decide to start over.
Dear hearts, the day has come. If you want to plunge head-first into the Dot matrix, you can be her sponsor.
Just when we think we’ve grasped the cats’ calling… Just when we think we’ve seen the full scope of their mission on earth… Along comes a whiff of grace so delicious it knocks us off our feet.
…she’s loved. And she’s so very extraordinary. The best is yet to come, Dot. That goes for this blog, too: stay tuned for further Dottaliciousness next week.
Contrary to the old adage, timing isn’t everything. Not exactly. Cupcakes are something, and so are wombats and stirrup pants. But sometimes, timing is downright divine. It’s all happening again.