Guest post: Unphased
At its best, being grown up is having a second childhood. You can have all the fun with a side of wisdom, and, hopefully, you can enjoy some seriously cool toys. But, it takes time to get there, for people and felines alike.
At its best, being grown up is having a second childhood. You can have all the fun with a side of wisdom, and, hopefully, you can enjoy some seriously cool toys. But, it takes time to get there, for people and felines alike.
We like to think lofty thoughts at Tabby’s Place. We like to think of ourselves as lofty beings, just a half-step below the angels. All our loftiness gets all of our cats laughing. Uproariously.
No one can run your race for you. But, by golly, do you have some glorious guides.
The Tabby’s Place Volunteer Picnic is an annual celebration of volunteers who volunteer at Tabby’s Place (like how I made that sound both redundant and not at the same time? Neat trick, huh?). It’s a wonderful event for us all to get together to be feted and feasted by those whom we help (staff) in […]
Here we are, betwixt and between the Sturgeon Moon and sweater weather. August was robust and ridiculous in equal measure. But it deposited us here on September’s shores, and here, with you, is exactly where the cats and I want to be.
Some Tabby’s Place residents scream for attention. Notably, one feisty little Lemon zinger in Suite C and a gregariously great Grecca in the Lobby shout to be heard and have us tune in to what they want. They sing out and clamor for attention — all of the attention, all of the time. These two […]
Don’t you dare shut up. Don’t shut up about how inglorious the new Space Jam is, nor how glorious the first was and is and forever shall be, amen. Don’t shut up about injustice. Don’t shut up about your favorite sandwich shop. Don’t shut up about the furious raging love beneath your bones. Don’t shut […]
By the time you read this, the Olympics will have picked its victors and pickled the rest. Skateboards will have soared. Swimmers will have splashed. Basketballs will have bounced into history. But 6,700 miles from Tokyo, the sportiest of all B-girls are still making headlines.
Sometimes, my brain goes on meandering side trips with, neither particular reason (sound or otherwise), nor rhyme (iambic pentameter or otherwise). Some vague thing will twinkle off at the edges of literal or figurative sight, and there I go…chasing butterflies, bumbleflies, flutterbys, dragonflies, and dragons, once again and all at once.