Now is not the winter of our discontent. Now is not yet the triumphal procession towards spring. Now is the holy roll of ordinary time at Tabby’s Place.
It’s been said that it’s harder to make people laugh than to make them cry. Lady Grey and Babs deserve high honors for having made us do both.
Did your elementary school give out a Perfect Attendance Award? Did you ever win it? Did you ever win it every single year? If you did, you’re a better bean than I.
So now we know what a polar vortex feels like.* However, we’ve known for seven lucky years what another sort of vortex feels like.
When New Jersey feels hotter than Death Valley, it’s best to let the cats handle the blog.
Warning: deep thoughts ahead. If you smell something burning, consider yourself warned. I’d venture to say that much of the pain in the world is caused by exclusion. The human world, that is.
Be it known: there are no plain cats. There are mutts and mysteries and marvels and mackerel tabbies. But no plain, boring cats. There are, however, “plain brown tabbies.” And, fortunately for our kitties, there is also a Plain Brown Tabby Toys and Treats.
Everything old is new again. OK, maybe not Dick Clark. Or Dick Cheney. But everything else.
You might think so if you happen to glance into Suite B. That’s because, when the light shines just right on one of our weirdest residents, she looks like nothing so much as…an opossum. That’s our Babs.