In many contexts, seven is a number for Very Good Things. Fullness and completion. Wonders of the world. Habits of highly effective people. Players on an Ultimate Frisbee team. And, most importantly, FIV+ cats adopted from Tabby’s Place in the last six months.
Note from Angela: special thanks to our anonymous volunteer blogger, Fuzzball, for penning the following. Our “overlooked” lovies are blessed to have you as their advocate. How is it possible that we would overlook one of our wonderful felines? Well, we really don’t, but sometimes potential adopters do.
Full disclosure warning: I was not personally present for the events I’m about to describe. That just might be a good thing.
Few things make me happier than sharing alumni news with you…especially news with (swoon) photos. This week, we get to hear from the long, lanky tabby who waited a long time for his meant-to-be home: Ace. Mrs. Ace, thank you for a phenomenal update:
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.