Have you ever wished you spoke Cat? I have for a long time, but never so much as lately.
I don’t know about you, kittens, but I’m at the breaking point. Breaking news. Shattering stories. From every screen, every speaker, it just…keeps…shouting. Some of it is news. Some of it is smoke. All of it is exhausting. It’s time we said “ENOUGH YET ALREADY!” and broke some news of our own.
There are dreams too deep to tell. There are tales too large for words. This is not one of those stories.
Ours is the instant age. Instant pots. Instagrams. Instant gratification of every greedy, grasping gradation. But cats prickle at our pace.
Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon? If so, heaven help you, and here’s a Band-Aid.
“We can’t lose Donna.” These are the sorts of ridiculous, unrealistic, inappropriate and painful things we say to our vet team at Tabby’s Place.
There’s no beating around this bristly, brutal bush. August 2018 dealt some awfulness in extremis at Tabby’s Place.
When your season arrives, you know. But until then, oh my stars, reality can be one ill-fitting suit.
There are goodbyes so long in coming, we come to expect that they will never come. When they come, they crash through us, a tsunami of tears that tear us to ribbons.