Sometimes even I know better than to ornament something with too-many words. On this Mardi Gras, the emphasis at Tabby’s Place is on the Gras.
It is not wise to accuse a cat of being late. Or early. Or a fan of Nicki Minaj. Or otherwise wrong. Especially if said cat is Elmo.
There are certain offers you can’t refuse. They come from barrel-chested men with names like Vito and Luca. There are other offers you can…but only if you’re a dang fool (of the sort pitied by this gentleman). These offers come from golden felines who just might be the Brad Pitt of cats.
There are no sacred cows at Tabby’s Place. And, when one turns up, it tends to get promptly barbequed.
Target has Missoni and Jason Wu. H&M has Versace and Marni. But only Tabby’s Place has Webster.
If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know about “Bags” (Bagheera). He was our first paraplegic cat and had an amazing personality. To our amazement and delight, he was adopted several years ago by a wonderful vet, Dr. M. Given the recent adoption of our second paraplegic, Tashi, and the […]
Your eyes do not deceive you. Nor did I type this after my 7th cosmopolitan. This is all about the bokeh of a certain North Jersey city.
What a piece of work is cat. One comes to Tabby’s Place “feral,” untouchable and uninterested in humanity (as the story goes). One comes to the sanctuary with a rap sheet of offenses, all in the general bucket of “attempting to annihilate one’s own species.” And then they both just decide to start over.
A little over 3 years ago, Geri arrived at Tabby’s Place a frightened and angry feral cat. She didn’t want us anywhere near her, and she really didn’t want us anywhere near her brother Ben.
Dear hearts, the day has come. If you want to plunge head-first into the Dot matrix, you can be her sponsor.