His attitude: legendary. His ego: colossal. His kidneys: XXL. And that’s where it all stops being funny.
It has taken me two weeks to get the emotional strength to write this post. I figured I had cried myself dry and I knew that putting this down on “paper” would reopen the wounds. But it had to happen. Today is the day.
Once upon a time, there was a Suite Marmalade. Then there wasn’t, and then there was, and now there is again…in a new form.
Normally, I wouldn’t advise enjoying fast food after it’s been sitting out for a year. But when the Value Meal in question is feline and phenomenal, how can we do anything other than adore it? Special thanks to AwesomeAdopter S. for this jubilant update on mama Wendy, her son Chili, and Chili’s “uncles” Purrcy and […]
Just when we thought Suite Marmalade was as orange as it gets, along came the nuts. This litter of pale-orange jumping beans may live up to their nutty names, but I’ll take them over the tastiest snack any day of the week.
Long ago and far away, Geoff‘s biggest worry was people mispronouncing his name (Gee-hoff, anyone?). Nowadays, you can call him Geoff or Gee-hoff or Gumby for all he cares. Things like that have a way of losing their importance once you’ve become a striped miracle.
I often think about the human beans at the “sending shelters.” That’s a nice way of saying “the places from which we bust cats loose.”
Two words can strike elation into even the hardest heart: kitten season. And, this spring, one of the most gifted writers and volunteers I know is kind enough to chronicle our little ones’ adventures here on Felis Catus. There’s one catch: this dear scribe, hereafter known as Fuzzball, wishes to remain anonymous. So with great joy, I […]
Does anyone else remember Sylvanian Families, the tiny, vaguely humanoid woodland creatures from the late 80s? For each species (bear, rabbit, squirrel…) you could collect the mom, dad, brother and sister – sold separately, of course. As a little girl, I wanted them all. But, nowadays, all I want is one Sylvan(ian) family.
There are at least two kinds of hearts. On one hand, there’s that fist-sized muscle that pumps life from head to toe. Then there’s the Valentine shaped affection-thing that hangs out with hugs and kisses and the color pink. You need one to survive; you need the other to live.