No party without you
I’m here to tell you that your tardiness is no problem. It’s OK to miss the tidal wave of a trend. It’s OK to take your time. It’s OK to be late to the party, as long as you party with us whenever you get here.
I’m here to tell you that your tardiness is no problem. It’s OK to miss the tidal wave of a trend. It’s OK to take your time. It’s OK to be late to the party, as long as you party with us whenever you get here.
In times of tumult, we need brave, tender leadership. We need a face full of light, a heart full of love, and a strong, sturdy spine that remembers how to dance. We need (so very much) humility. We need someone less like an emperor and more like a Town Councilman.*
Full disclosure: Bucca is my favorite cat at Tabby’s Place. Full disclosure: last weekend I cried at least four times, and two of them were during the Americana Hour on public radio. Full disclosure: I don’t know about “full disclosure.”
We are remarkable creatures, you and me. That’s not only because we’re exceptionally good-looking and sweet-smelling and love cats more than air. It’s because we’re human beans.
It has befallen us. This is not a drill. We simultaneously have a Puddin’ and a Dumpling.
Let me guess: you’ve got food on the brain this week. Let’s clear up a few things: canned cranberry sauce is superior to Martha Stewart’s finest (bonus points if it retains the can shape); marshmallows have no business bothering sweet potatoes; and whoever invented “frizzled onions” should be tried for war crimes.
If you hang around Tabby’s Place for any length of time, you will unavoidably encounter the word “shmoldie.” Repeatedly. Inescapably. Inexplicably.
Every cat deserves attention. Every cat deserves to be marveled at. But very few cats cause every single observer to exclaim, “Oh, my!”
Faced with cats, we’re regularly in the position of begging: that the fussy ones will eat, that the nervous ones will let us pet them, that all of them will stop judging us for…well, everything. (Yes, Bucca has strong opinions about your fanny pack and my singing voice.) Still, it’s not often we find ourselves […]
I don’t know about you, kittens, but I’m at the breaking point. Breaking news. Shattering stories. From every screen, every speaker, it just…keeps…shouting. Some of it is news. Some of it is smoke. All of it is exhausting. It’s time we said “ENOUGH YET ALREADY!” and broke some news of our own.