The only girl in the world
With apologies to her namesake, Tabby’s Place is the home of the only girl in the world. Now we just need to convince Rihanna that she’s safe under our umbrella.
I love you, Hoopla Green
I need the world to know. I need the galaxies to know. But most of all, bewildered sprite, I need you to know.
Les joyeux
I will not geek out over Bastille Day. I will not geek out over Bastille Day. Je ne vais pas… …C’EST MAGNIFIQUE! Nous avons des chatons nommes JAVERT, MARIUS, FANTINE, et GAVROCHE! OUI, JE CRIE!
Kitty LeFey’s Cosmos: Saving the World
From orange and green to blue and red, superheroes’ outfits come in pretty much all of the colors. Some are extravagantly garish, like Booster Gold’s flamboyant unitard, designed to be attention grabbing. Some are muted or dark, enabling wearers, like Black Widow, to hide in shadows (all the better to ninja with!). None are as […]
Epilogues: June 2023
Ask the experts: did we fail or prevail at Tabby’s Place this June? Any month involving the Strawberry Moon would seem a guaranteed success. But the experts are not so sure.
Singing to all
Setting: Tabby’s Place Managers’ Meeting. Our Founder & Executive Director assessed the state of the realm: “Walker* sings to all the girls.” Jonathan’s observation was accurate but incomplete.
Kitty LeFey’s Cosmos: Hipso Facto
Life brings change. Some change is good; some change is bad. Most change is neutral. Change is as inevitable as the shift from day to night, sunrise to moonrise. Hence the tautology, It is what it is. Life delivered a great deal of change directly into the unsuspecting paws of Hips Rosenberg. Down one tail […]
Wild balls of brightness
I sincerely, obnoxiously believe it is totally, terrifyingly all up to me. Clearly I have not yet spent enough time in the presence of cats.
What we show for the day
Was it a good day? The cayenne stray died. The wary child chose silence. The meaty beast bared some, not all. Was it a good day?
Still and ever
There was a time when kinfolk cloistered in Brooklyn brownstones or Omaha homesteads, Italian and Swedish singing across the clotheslines and generations. There was a time when Suite C was Suite C, and cats of a certain fatness stuffed the years like rollatini, together for (a) forever or (b) until someone slimmed their way elsewhere. […]
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