What do you do when you throw a party, but no one wants to dance? Well, you bring everyone to the neighbors’ house, of course.
“Up ahead they’s a thousan’ lives we might live, but when it comes it’ll on’y be one.” ― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath “MY ONE LIFE IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!” ― Steinbeck Rosenberg
Yes, Allen, I’m afraid it’s true. There are people who will define you by the dust on your coat and the dirt under your claws. Fret not. These people are not your pals.
Diagnoses can be disheartening. Diagnoses can be dastardly. But, an FIV+ diagnosis at Tabby’s Place can lead to residency in Suite D. That is D for dynamic. Also, D is for enDearing. It only takes a minute to find out why diagnostic heartache and healing purr go side by side in a magical space.
The rules were clearly delineated. The recipe was printed legibly. The results rebelled.
You just can’t stop, can you? Cherishing the kittens, that is. It’s a Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very good thing you’re here.
You can count on Sweetie, you know. This may come as a surprise, since Sweetie doesn’t even want you to count the rings on his tail. He is timid and ponderous, bashful and bewildered. That is precisely why you can count on Sweetie. You just need to learn what Sweetie knows.
At fifty-five miles an hour, you would scarcely see her. Was that a cat, or someone’s discarded sweatshirt? Was there breath in that bundle, or just speckles and bones? The world drives too fast. Only love is slow enough to see the sparkle.
Caring for cats in a sanctuary requires more than just feeding, no matter what the cats may say. Grooming the cats at the Place of all places, that is to say Tabby’s Place, is important for their hygiene and for nourishing connections.
I am not supposed to be writing this, and you are not supposed to be reading it. But we are not in control.