The tides of March
March is the consummate in-between month. Lion and lamb. Winter and spring. Death and life.
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The tides of March
March is the consummate in-between month. Lion and lamb. Winter and spring. Death and life.
Come in from the cold
I’m going to tell you a secret. If tortoiseshell cats could sing, they would all be sopranos.
Baconium
We are connoisseurs of irony at Tabby’s Place. For instance: The cats of Suite B are currently playing with a tiny stuffed George W. Bush.* The cats with inflammatory bowel disease live in our staff lunch room. And cats — or, at least, one cat — can acquire sleep disorders.
Epilogues: February 2016
Strange, sweet little February, we salute you You gave us conversation hearts. (LUV YA. Mean it.) You gave us political heartburn. You gave us Cake by the Ocean.
Requested: Super-duper Tuesday prayers
This is a high-stakes day for our citizenry. Emotions are running high across the realm. Of course, I am talking about the sovereign nation of Tabby’s Place.
Beyond the labyrinth
Being in a maze can be maddening, if you’re a mouse. Being in a maze can be liberating, if you’re a seeker.
The beautiful people
In life and fashion, there are no coincidences. Case in point: our growing horde of glamazons.
Where there’s a Wil
She’s older than an ingenue. She’s plainer than a calico. But if you think this dame’s done, you’ve got a lot to learn about one feline frau.