Manhattan has fashion. Ringoes, NJ has Wal-Mart jeans. Manhattan has the Met and MoMa and the Guggenheim. Ringoes has a deli that kind of looks like a saloon. But Manhattan and Ringoes both have exceptional cats of excellence.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of something no eyes should see. And mine ears have heard the yowls of a Community Room divided. Gunther is here, and he’s declared war.
If yesterday was gras, today is grey. Faithful folk worldwide are walking around with smudges of ash on their foreheads, representing repentance to God and the start of Lent. Faithful cats, on the other hand, have been wearing ash grey in and out of (liturgical) season. Never mind that felines don’t do repentance.
Sometimes even I know better than to ornament something with too-many words. On this Mardi Gras, the emphasis at Tabby’s Place is on the Gras.
It is not wise to accuse a cat of being late. Or early. Or a fan of Nicki Minaj. Or otherwise wrong. Especially if said cat is Elmo.
There are certain offers you can’t refuse. They come from barrel-chested men with names like Vito and Luca. There are other offers you can…but only if you’re a dang fool (of the sort pitied by this gentleman). These offers come from golden felines who just might be the Brad Pitt of cats.
There are no sacred cows at Tabby’s Place. And, when one turns up, it tends to get promptly barbequed.
Target has Missoni and Jason Wu. H&M has Versace and Marni. But only Tabby’s Place has Webster.
If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know about “Bags” (Bagheera). He was our first paraplegic cat and had an amazing personality. To our amazement and delight, he was adopted several years ago by a wonderful vet, Dr. M. Given the recent adoption of our second paraplegic, Tashi, and the […]
Your eyes do not deceive you. Nor did I type this after my 7th cosmopolitan. This is all about the bokeh of a certain North Jersey city.