When someone tells you they don’t like cats, you have two options. You can call the police. Or you can ask them, “why?” (While dialing the police.)
A reverse fairy tale is atypical. Yet, this is where we join Ella in her story: back at Tabby’s Place after living the dream in a home of her own.
Cats tolerate so much that they cannot understand. They put up with our insistence upon pants, superfluous expenditures better directed to dairy. They do not give us a hard time for having meetings when we could be laying on the floor. They respect our mysterious need to watch strangers throw balls into hoops and nets. […]
Sometimes a typo is truer than it knows. Moo Moo was formally “moved to the Lobby.” But Moo Moo was more accurately “loved to the Lobby.”
The United States is approaching a Presidential election. We are, and are not, going to talk about that on this blog.
Boa and Adder feel robbed. Something precious was taken away from them when Moo Moo was moved to the lobby.
Tell me how you get through the day, and I will tell you where your greatness lies. Try to tell me while your cheeks are full, and we will both laugh until we cry. Napoleon will laugh loudest.
There is a force that keeps love in orbit. There is a green that can’t be seen. There is a cat named Baby Yoda in Jonathan’s office.
Timid poet, you asked so little of life, and always politely. Life smiled every time it said your name.
Tell Madonna she’s your lucky star, and she will believe you. Vogue around Suite B, and you will find she knows all the moves. Just don’t call her the Queen of Pop, because she’s one hundred percent rock ‘n roll.