Martha, Martha, Martha
Some Marthas make stenciled toilet-paper holders. Some Marthas make friends in prison. And some Marthas make the journey from death’s door to loud, proud life.
Sherpin' up
As a general rule, the Tabby’s Place cats started from the bottom. Now they’re here. Leading the race to the top these days is none other than our very own personal Sherpa.*
To err
Any self-respecting feline will tell you: cats do not err. They do surprise you. They do make last-minute course corrections. But they do not make mistakes. N-O-N, no.
Passed over
Some things do not make sense. For example: 1) That weird recurring dream in which you’re married to Dan Akroyd; 2) The way I find myself humming “Ode to Joy” when I clean litter boxes; 3) The fact that neither Angus nor Boris has yet been adopted.
Smudges of mystery
It’s freeing to come clean about our smudges and strangeness. For instance: I wear more ruffles than is age-appropriate. I’m looking for a man who is equal parts Pope Francis and Jimmy Fallon. I habitually use more paper towels than required for the task at hand. I find some of the spam we get on […]
Semper Edward
There are certain things we speak before saying things better left unspoken. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your cooking tastes like excrement.” “No offense, but I find you loathsome.” Or try this one on for size: “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but Tabby’s Place only has really sick cats.”
Epilogues: March 2014
We did it, kittens. We marched forth. We outlasted the year that seemed like always winter and never Christmas. And now, Aslan is on the move. Now, wild dingoes couldn’t keep us from blooming.
Guest post: Siriusly
As if it weren’t enough to adopt an elderly, “imperfect” cat; as if it weren’t enough to champion the praises of elderly, “imperfect” cats to all who would listen; as if it weren’t enough to become one of our most fabulous volunteers; Carrie M. has penned the following for our delight. Enjoy.
Forever loved: Black-and-white edition
We debate the following to no end at Tabby’s Place: Is it easier to say goodbye when we’ve had a long time to prepare? Or does the suddenness of loss spare us a searing season of grief?
Good things come in fours
The Pink Moon is coming. The crocuses are about to break winter’s chains. And I have exciting news for you, in quadruplicate.