The Tabby’s Place cats voted, and it was unanimous. October is the best month. It’s Tabby’s Place’s anniversary. It’s so spooky and shivery that “cuddling cats” becomes non-negotiable. It’s when the world turns the color of processed cheese.
Twenty years. It’s the lifespan of a fortunate cat. It’s the approximate length of a Meat Loaf song. It’s childhood, with a little extra padding. It’s the age of Tabby’s Place.
Everyone knows we only take cats from hopeless situations. Everyone knows we only take cats who need us like the ocean needs the moon. But you should also know: we only take beautiful cats.
We have not provided Oysters Rockefeller. Fairy stories about cold pizza remain myths. Yet Ash experiences every experience as a love letter.
You don’t need me to tell you that this world is bouncy. The word sounds so friendly until you fall off the seesaw.
Rawlings came back, but Rawlings came back. It’s enough to make you twirl your mustache like a cartoon villain, minus the villainy.
There is a sense in which the sun never sets. Race ever eastward, leaping longitudes like jump rope, and you will stay in the light. Nestle in memory, grateful for the days given, and you will stay in bloom.
“Ebony will get adopted before she finishes her quarantine.” “Ebony will get adopted before we can post her online.” “Ebony will get adopted before we know it.”
Darling, dazzling Tabby’s Place family… We knew you were selfless… We knew you were generous… We knew your hearts are made of mercy… But…