Home to the head of the class, part I
The freshman class is matriculating. Orientees are orientating. And graduates of Tabby’s Place are celebrating.
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The freshman class is matriculating. Orientees are orientating. And graduates of Tabby’s Place are celebrating.
OK, winter, we get it: you’re stronger than us. You dang near broke Boston. March came in like a lion and out like a friggin’ manticore. Yes, you’re stronger than us. You’re stronger…but we’re cuter. And scrappier. And we have much, much better musical taste.
There are people who scare you: dictators, axe murderers, Ronald McDonald. There are people who evoke your sympathy: starving people, lonely people, people enslaved by warlords or warlocks. Then there are the people who fall into both categories simultaneously.
We’re fiercely defensive of our cats at Tabby’s Place. Go ahead and call the staff gypsies, tramps and thieves. Tell us our feet smell like cheese and you don’t like the way we wear our hair. We can take it. Just don’t insult our cats.
It has come. October. But before we can properly begin the month of Tabby’s Place’s 10th anniversary and our 1st Halloween in three years without a major natural disaster, we’ve got some ‘splaining to do about September.