Scientists talk about the Law of Conservation of Matter. Scientists talk about protoplasm. And scientists talk about other scientists (you know they do). But nothing that scientists talk about is as interesting as Betsy. That’s why we’re going to talk about the Law of Conservation of Cats who are Unable to Keep their Tongues in […]
Riddle me this: what do you do when you’ve exhausted the word “awesome” and need something stronger? We’re gonna have to start coining our own verbiage here, folks, because the adopters just keep getting more magnificent.
Everybody needs dreams. Maybe your dream is to captain a barge. Maybe you dream of having a pet yak. Maybe what stokes your fire is the dream of writing the world’s finest sonnet about cauliflower. But if you’re Bonnie, it may seem that your dream can never be.
In observance of President’s Day week, this post shall honor the cat who most echoes the statesmanship and service befitting the highest office in the land. By which, of course, I mean the cat who looks the most like Martin Van Buren.
Warning: the following may sound strange and more than a little wrong. Make that definitely will sound strange and wrong: Happy Valentine’s Day! This year, show your love by removing a cat’s reproductive organs!
It has come to my attention that I made a major Mardi Gras faux pas. I neglected the opportunity to focus on the gras.
It’s a cryin shame. Tabby’s Place has never had cats with any of the following names: The Colonel, The Captain, The Commissioner or The Admiral. But there’s hope. The sanctuary’s classiness quotient spiked 7,000% with the arrival of Barley.
Warning: this will not be my most articulate blog post. Today I beseech you for your prayers for a cat. More precisely, the cat. The cat who puts the twist in my tail, the bend in my ends, the sprinkle on my cupcake. Webster.
Sometimes what’s simple is true. There’s no “new math” required here: loving human + stripey kitten = neverending specialness.