For once, I will keep my mouth/keyboard shut, as nothing I could say would add to the perfect tribute below. Thanks to all who have been praying for our old battle ax in his final days. The following was penned by Jonathan, for Nuttin‘s faithful sponsors.
Plenty of kids love cats. They love them and squeeze them and mush them and sometimes scare them. But it’s the rare and precious mini-human who loves cats way down to his depths. Rare and precious, clearly, is Jacob.
It’s not often I receive an email containing the words “I want to eat your soul.” Fortunately, this message was not from an online dating site; it was from Tabby’s Place alumna Chickadee.
I’ve always thought Thanksgiving is the purest holiday. The cats agree. Our reasons differ.
We’ve felt a special affection for our Southern friends in Jersey this fall. Where you’ve braved more hurricanes than Gov. Christie has stockpiled Twinkies, we’re reeling from our own Big One. You could have laughed. You could have called us Northeastern weenies unable to deal with a little apocalyptic storm. But you didn’t.
Ask, and you shall receive. I was so bold as to beseech you for guest blog posts, and you delivered. Oh, mercy, did you deliver. Being Team Tabby’s Place, you delivered with guts and glory and Hollywood-blockbuster excitement. And then you threw in a line about “19 pounds of angry fat” just as a gift […]
You have to tread carefully when you start naming cats after Shakespearean characters. One minute, you’ve got Puck and Touchstone and Sir Toby Belch and all is comedic happiness. But venture off into King Lear or Macbeth territory, and next thing you know, some English major will scream, “Why would you name cats after people […]
Many long years ago, there was a movie about a bunch of old toys. They were eagerly awaiting Christmas, and warmly welcomed the new toys when it came. The movie concluded with all the toys embracing and singing a song with lyrics like “Old friends, new friends, friends who are more awesome than sparkles…” (Something […]
Martha Stewart used to have a habit of saying, “it’s a good thing.” She seems to have stopped that around the time she went to prison, but I think even Her Perfectness would agree: the following is a good thing. It’s better than cupcakes. It’s better than mandolin music. It’s even better than that scene […]
Oksana came to us with some ghastly name I don’t remember – Kittypoopoo or Newt or some similar. We made her an honorary Olympian, joining kittens Bolt, Phelps, Marion, Yelena, Murray, Solo and Mary Lou. She soon proved she would be the most graceful of them all.