Bet on the marshmallow
There are people who would rather have one marshmallow now than two in ten minutes. There are people who festoon marshmallows with garland halos and declare them angels. And then there are cats.
There are people who would rather have one marshmallow now than two in ten minutes. There are people who festoon marshmallows with garland halos and declare them angels. And then there are cats.
It’s the shortest month of one of the longest years since years began. The hour is late. This is no time for half-measures in love. This is no time for scarcity in hair city.
O! Planet October, how did you enter our orbit? There we were, Septembering along like woolly bear caterpillars, when POOF! you filled the sky and turned our world upside-down. And now, O! October! Here we are with stars in our eyes and stomachs full of butterflies and so many shouts and sighs, I don’t know […]
Cats have decreed: you are not too far gone. Cats poke and ponder: perhaps you have not gone far enough. Over the edge. Out of the burrow. Into the fray and the play and the prayer that is life.
I’m not here to talk about Betty. I’m here to talk about Betty. Who, as it turns out, reminds me an awful lot of Betty.
If witches have “familiars” (cats, toads, bats, senators, etc.), we — whatever we are at Tabby’s Place — have “peculiars.” Halloween has come. Halloween has gone. All Saints and All Souls have made their annual appearance. But holidays are perpetual at the Place called Tabby’s, and we’re rich in treats and tricksters, holy mischief-makers and […]
It’s entirely possible that we have galumphing hordes of grandparents on our hands. We’re rich, kittens. Who among us, whether seven or seventy-seven, couldn’t use a good Grandpa or twelve?
Quick: tell me your favorite words of all time. I’ll go first: Beloved. Ubiquitous. Delightful. Ginormous. Luminous. Irrevocable. Mine all happen to describe cats.
February was not fully perfect. Cases in point: Something has gone horribly wrong with all the butter in Canada. Elvira is no longer ours for the hugging. Daft Punk has broken up. Additional case in point, pointedly true every month: our collective sanity has broken up (HA HA HA I MADE A FUNNY! “COLLECTIVE SANITY” […]
Don’t let commercials about rich people getting Christmas Cadillacs make you cynical. These are, in fact, the days of miracle and wonder. And I’ve got 120 cats to back me up.