There are many, many Tabby’s Place-isms that old Mr. Webster (this one, not the best of the Websters) would never put in his dictionary.
In a sunny little corner suite, Tabby’s Place is blessed to host a garden of steel magnolias, golden girls as sweet as Betty White but as “suffer-no-fools” as Bea Arthur. Thay may be sweet as maple syrup, but make no mistake: the old ladies of Tabby’s Place are no strangers to tough stuff. Matter of fact, […]
May it never be forgotten. And “auld lang syne” and all that good stuff. While we’re at it, let’s take a cup of kindness, too.
Well, my friends, you wondered, you asked, you e-mailed me, you guessed… …and, amazingly, every single one of you was wrong. Hanz and Franz are not who anyone thought they were.
Felis Catus family, I’m afraid I owe you an apology. But, more seriously, I’m afraid I owe eight kittens an apology.
‘Tis the season for commencement speeches, graduations and Big Scary Exciting Transitions. As usual, the cats will not be left out of the drama.
When is a kitten not just a kitten? When he’s (a) a fur boa, (b) an interlitter peacemaker and (c) all that and five bags of chips. Phillie is no ordinary kitten.
By now, we shouldn’t have been surprised…but we couldn’t help it. Not another one. Yes, yet another cat had come to Tabby’s Place with the name…(sigh) Oreo. We couldn’t – we wouldn’t – leave him to the fate of being the 900,000th 6th Oreo at Tabby’s Place (and the third simultaneously). Something had to be […]
…for Sorbet. Actually, we scream for Gelato, too – though in his case, it’s all over but…well, the screaming.
It has been brought to my attention that, while I take many pictures of all the Tabby’s Place cats, I take a fully appropriate disproportionate number of pictures of Webster (say, 50 one hundred meeeellion a month). And isn’t that rather unfair? To quote various British people: bollocks.