Epilogues: December 2015
Breathe in deeply, kittens. Can you sense it?
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This can be a funny time of year. Not funny-ha-ha; funny like Election Day, or hemorrhoids, or ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife.
This is a wild, woolly world. We’ve got global goals and global griefs. We’ve got water on Mars and Macklemore back on the charts. Fortunately, we’ve also got gobs of cat news.
Many things are best when heated. Italian bread. Fluffy towels. Apple pie. Unspayed feral cats.
…your blogger has been a whole buncha busy. It’s hard work receiving amazing items like trips to Aruba and pearl necklaces. (No, really, it is – I don’t get to keep this stuff. But you have a shot at it – click here.) But, thanks to my epic guilt at not having time to write […]
If I were a sappier sort, I might say that mama cats are like snowflakes: no two are exactly alike. But I’ve been around cats long enough to know that metaphor doesn’t quite work. Mama cats are more like…Koosh balls.
There’s one thing that just might give us all grey hair before our time at Tabby’s Place. Kittens who won’t eat.
Be it known: Tabby’s Place cats will no longer settle for just any old cheezburger. Now that they know about Das Burger and The Bravest Man In All The Land, their standards are permanently raised…through the roof.