It is 5,059 miles from Istanbul, Turkey to Ringoes, New Jersey. For astonishing Anka, it wasn’t an inch too far.
To be loved for who we are — this is what we long for, live for, were put on this earth to taste. Sometimes, though, we have to stomach counterfeit love before the real thing locks into place.
“Playing well with others” isn’t everyone’s core competency. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. But, in the case of one Simba Rosenberg, there’s one way to strengthen those social muscles: surround yourself with a slew of new neighbors. Tara tells the tale today. – A.H.
Editrix’s note: nothing I could possibly write could add to the beauty of this update. Special thanks to Tabby’s Place volunteer/adopter/extraordinary human bean Karin, Boots‘ longtime Special Needs correspondent, for penning this triumphant farewell. — A.H.
I never quite understood the phenomenon of Christmas in July. If you’re really into Christmas, why not keep it rolling all year long?
It’s Hungry Ghost Month in the Chinese lunar calendar. It’s Hungry Ghost Millennium in the Tabby’s Place Lounge.
In the immortal words of They Might Be Giants, you’re older than you’ve ever been, and now you’re even older. And now you’re even older. And now you’re even older.
Loving other creatures is not for the faint of heart. As we relearned too well this week, love can leach our tears and our wails and our patience.
There are weeks that power your perseverance, and weeks that push your fist higher and higher into the restless sky. The start of September in Ringoes, NJ was one of the latter. We lost Meatball. We lost Tyke. And I’m not ashamed to report that we lost our patience with reality.
Did you eat local at every farm market? Did you “fweeeee!” around every Ferris wheel? Did you summer your summer to the summaximum?