Epilogues: August 2023
There must be some hidden hoard of helium in the walls of Tabby’s Place. How else to explain the ups and downs of August, our hearts bobbing like airships?
There must be some hidden hoard of helium in the walls of Tabby’s Place. How else to explain the ups and downs of August, our hearts bobbing like airships?
January hath given, and January hath taken away. January hath given us Zebra Cake ice cream, and January hath taken away all remaining laughable attempts by our species to appear dignified. January hath taken away our queen Betty White (and our gentle jester Louie Anderson, and our soaring bard Meat Loaf), and January hath given […]
This has not been a normal holiday season. Fortunately, Tabby’s Place contains precisely zero normal cats, normal humans, or normal salamanders. (I can neither confirm nor deny the underground salamander kingdom of Tabby’s Place, nor their effective rule over the rest of us.)
We came. We marched fourth. We marched thirty-first, even. And now, we shall April.