Rampageous update: Snooping around
How the mighty have fallen… …in poundage.
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Cats are like a box of chocolates: sometimes filled with delicious surprises, sometimes an inexplicable mix of not-quite-pleasant flavors, but always worth the risk. Right now, my house is a somewhat confusing mix of flavors, because I took a big risk.
Let us now pause to ponder the significance of stains. I speak not of the stains that smirch the towels and blankets of Tabby’s Place, but those stains — alright, blots — that blotch psychological examinations.
Be it known: beautiful things get missed much too often. Case in point: Saturn just came really close to the moon. If we were looking, we could have seen four planets at once. Four. (Five, if you looked down at the one you were standing on.) Case in second point: Minneapolis could have shut down […]
Complacency has no home in the birthing box. That much I knew after a few weeks with the Big Bang babies.
Last night, my foster kitty Talia finally had her babies. Five brand new kitties, right here in my guest bathroom! Nevertheless, my relief over the successful live births shortly succumbed to new mom anxiety.
The Linda Fund, that is. I rarely ask for donations in this space, but you bet your bouncy-house I’m gonna do so today. And I have help.
This is the ongoing story of my foster, Talia, the one-year old expectant cat who’d been living with me for three weeks. She announced her impending labor by leaving a wet and gooey yellow streak on my skirt.
Meet Rufus. He is what you would call a doofus — or, as they spell it in the land of his people, dufus. But woe to the one who looks at Rufus and sees an uncomplicated dufus.