At Tabby’s Place, it is no rare thing to hear words such as “slain” and “flattened” upon someone meeting a new resident. Maybe it’s just me saying such things, but it’s a regular occurrence when magical beings like Odessa fill the suites.
A cat slowly nudges a full glass of water to the edge of a precipice, relishing the moments of anticipation until, inescapably, gravity’s pull slams home with a crash and a splash.
The FeLV+ cats in Quinn’s Corner have a secret, and they want to spill the beans. Brace yourself. Ready? Felvies can live long, healthy, happy lives.
Poop is the stuff dreams are made of. This is the literal truth for Tabby’s Place staff and volunteers. Seriously. Also, ew.
FIV (Feline Immunodeficiency Virus) can be a fierce foe. Yet, it stands no chance against the warriors of Tabby’s Place. In naming cats with whimsy and joy, the virus’s teeth can be pulled one giggle at a time. Although, truth be told, not all of the giggles have anything to do with the cats’ names.
“You want to throw me Taylor? He’s right behind you.” This might not be the strangest statement to be overheard at Tabby’s Place.
With intakes and outtakes (aka adoptions), it can be difficult to keep track of the very many Tabby’s Place cats in the very many spaces that they occupy. When there are multiples of similar size, shape, and markings, the challenges double.
Staff and volunteers at Tabby’s Place devote themselves to soft labor.
Ahoy, me hearties! Avast ye! It might seem a wee bit strange, but Tabby’s Place is being run like a pirate ship these days. The cats (and several hundred people) are keeping things under smooth sail, no matter how the winds blow or when there are seas of change.
Cats face introductions to lots of strangers when they’re first brought into a sanctuary. Like children just starting grade school, they have no idea who will become their newest best friends.