We are two weeks away from The Day On Which It Is Permissible To Expect Affection. This is of no concern to The Species From Which We Can Learn Much.
Me and Mr. Jones, that is. It’s much too strong to let it go now.
This post has been weeks and prayers in the making. So let’s start here: it’s cause for celebration that you’re reading this at all. The mere existence of this post means that Jude is still very much alive.
Someone decided that today is sad. Someone is decisively wrong.
We’re a long way from condiment season. But in a certain Community Room, it’s still high time for hot dogs and hamburgers.*
Some days this job brings us very close to something very sacred. Correction: that occurs every day. Some days we’re just temporarily unclouded enough to see it.
Every day is a party at Tabby’s Place. There are shenanigans. There is tomfoolery. There’s enough Party Mix to make a trail to Neptune and back. But one day still stands apart.
This post could have had several names. In living color. She’s a rainbow. But “banish winter” it shall be.
A Tabby’s Place year has ended. A Tabby’s Place year has begun.
You, dear human beans, give me hope. It’s my fervent hope that you give yourselves hope, too.