Barefoot in the Snowy
It is June, the season for the footloose. You look down and see flip-flops or gladiator sandals. You may even be wise as a cat, which is to say barefoot. Or you may still have your snowshoes on.
It is June, the season for the footloose. You look down and see flip-flops or gladiator sandals. You may even be wise as a cat, which is to say barefoot. Or you may still have your snowshoes on.
He arrived geriatric and intergalactic. He was the patriarch of impossible panache. Mortimer would make no time for mourning, but mere mortals must weep.
We tend to think that cats are simple. Cats note this on their yellow legal pads, nod at one another, and confirm: humans are precious simpletons. Rusty finds us particularly adorable.
“This is not a drill.” These were my shining colleague Bree’s exact words. More precisely: “THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!”
If this should all end tomorrow, Mr. Mustache could be proud for the rest of his life. Mr. Mustache has done good work. Mr. Mustache has changed the entire world.
There is a cord stronger than a double helix. Gator believes it is made of kielbasa. Arthur knows there is magic deeper still.
It’s June, my little jitterbugs. It’s the happiest (handclap) clappiest (handclap) time of the year. Beach time. Pool time. Free-to-be-a-fool time. (Mark your calendars.) Are you singing? Why aren’t you singing? Sing to me, my angels of music. Better yet, swing this junebug into the nearest parking lot and tell me the truth, the way […]
On any given morning, we may find that the world is large and looks like an angry finger-painting. This is when we’re grateful that Tabby’s Place is a world within the world.
Take it from Lucy: today’s a good day to ride the ecliptic. It’s not like you have much choice. Which means you have one choice.
Holy moly, humans. We’re a holey bowl of needers, aren’t we? Fragile doilies. Patchwork jeans. Slim slices of Swiss. But we are surrounded by creatures who consider themselves the living equivalents of chunk cheese. They are more than happy to patch our holes with melty mercy.