Kitty LeFey’s Cosmos: Rags to Riches
One small member of a treasured horde, in August of 2024, Nerf came to Tabby’s Place where he spent a lot of time hidden behind a curtain on a shelf.
Ready and Willie: The Linda Fund Begins
You were here. That is the reason Willie is here. That is the only reason Willie is here. And now, for just a little while, the Linda Fund is here.
Saint Bernard of the Crooked Halo
He was born the colors of sandcastles, with vacation in his eyes. He has more fringe than a cowboy costume, and applied to have his name legally changed to “The Rootin’ Tootin’ Ringoes Kid.” Bernard never said he was a saint. But he never said he wasn’t.
Don’t call him “Michael”
Don’t call him “Michael.” It’s a respectable name, worthy of Jordans, Foxes, and one excellent Bublé. It’s just not Mikey‘s name.
Kitty LeFey’s Cosmos: Catasaurus Rex
Beyond providing vaccinations and, especially at Tabby’s Place, saving lives by treating acute and chronic problems, veterinary care can lead to helpful educated guesses about the felines we know and love.
The wall of Jericho
If you are looking for a cat cuter than Jericho, I’m sorry, but no such cats exist. If you are looking for a cat more complicated than Jericho, I’m sorry, but no such cats exist.
Pollyvision
It’s impressive, but she doesn’t do it to impress anyone. Polly is on a personal project, strictly between Polly and Polly. She climbs so she can see farther.
Kitty LeFey’s Cosmos: Years in the Making
Malora is melting. Maybe that’s thawing. Warming might be the better term.
Kitty Purry and Leonardo DiCatrio need your strength
OK, Tabby’s Place family. You know how we love around here. When one of us hurts, all of us hurt. When one of us is weak, the rest of us muster our strength. And right now, our sweetest teens need us to dream on their behalf. Kitty Purry and Leonardo DiCatrio have FIP.
Forever Loved: Dewie
How do we do this? I understand why people ask. If we can answer, maybe we can be ready next time. We can wrap that answer in a handkerchief and carry it in our pockets. The next time sadness is taller than we are, we can grasp that answer like a key, or an EpiPen, […]
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