What is love, anyway? It is a question for the ages, not just for Howard Jones. At Tabby’s Place, the answer goes by many names.
When you are in a hopeless situation, every day is Ash Wednesday. You don’t need a smudge on your forehead. You wear grief like a tattoo. You don’t need someone to say, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” You remember all too well. But when you are a Tabby’s Place […]
The cats have a beef to pick with you and me. They can’t agree whether it’s a roast beef or a corned beef. Regardless, we’re really in trouble this time.
We try not to have favorites at Tabby’s Place. We fail. “We” is all-inclusive of our furred and non-furred delegations.
The year is 2025, and humans have learned how to make many things. We have invented an entity called “cheese product.” We have taught our smart speakers to tell us the dewpoint, the average weight of a wombat, and Willie Nelson’s birthday. We can even manufacture diamonds in a laboratory and convince each other they […]
What is black as midnight, falls over with eagerness, and peeps conversationally with people and felines alike? Why, it’s none other than Doury!
Do not adjust your screen. You are not seeing things. There is, in fact, a bear living at Tabby’s Place. Meet Ursula.
On a drive from central New Jersey to Pennsylvania, Amanda noticed the sign for Tabby’s Place. “As a lifelong animal lover and rescuer, it immediately caught my attention. I looked it up online when I got home,” said Amanda.
We never did get to hear him say “hellow.” But Sweetie‘s voice will echo far beyond goodbye.
Tabby’s Place has cared for dozens of paraplegic cats. We have given love by the gallon to cookies-and-cream cats. There have been a multitude of “Misters,” from Mr. Silverman to Mr. Grey to the matchless Mr. Man. But we have never seen the likes of Colonel Mr. Peabody.