Gi…oh-no
Cats, you’re supposed to be better than this. More precisely, you’re supposed to be better than us.
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Cats, you’re supposed to be better than this. More precisely, you’re supposed to be better than us.
It was the hardest kind of day. It was the kindest kind of day. It was one of those days. You know those days.
At Tabby’s Place, building community is highly cherished. In this very special building, cats and people come together to create a community like no other.
It was bitterly cold. There was a giant, red, danger-triangle of warning drawn over the entire state.
Do you hear it, kittens? Do you feel it, when you lay your hand upon your heart?
We hold our breath on Christmas Eve. Can the promises hold our weight, though we are not kittens anymore? Can we hang onto all we believed, though are arms are full of grown-up things?
It’s almost time, my little sweet potatoes. The paper cups are full of poultry. Anka has groomed himself to Great Aunt Gertrude’s standards. Gator promises not to chomp into anyone’s leg like a drumstick.* *Unless they bring up politics, discourage him from auditioning for The Golden Bachelor, or arrive without actual drumsticks. All that’s missing … […]
Today, we thank veterans. They have lived with courage so the world can live in peace. They have walked lonely roads of unseen sacrifice. They are shy about applause and accolades, uneasy with the word “hero.” And then … there are the cats.