Nineteen years. That’s how long it’s been since the invincible towers fell. This grief is two years older than Tabby’s Place itself.
Here’s something worth thinking about. If you meet someone named Gus, is it short for August, Augustine, Augustus, or Asparagus?
Let it never be said that May is monotone. Stuff went down this past month, kittens. Billy Ray Cyrus returned to the radio, achy-breaking all of our ears if not our spirits. The President of the United States of America presented a very large trophy to a very large man at the Grand Sumo tournament. […]
May it never be forgotten. And “auld lang syne” and all that good stuff. While we’re at it, let’s take a cup of kindness, too.
With all apologies to the Oscar-nominated tour de force, our hearts belong to only one Precious at Tabby’s Place. And, I’m afraid, the latest news is almost enough to send us human Precious-adorers scuttling into a corners, rubbing our hands together with a glazed look in our eyes, and muttering, “My Precious…”
Some goodbyes are particularly wrenching. Few rival the ache of losing our tiny tabby, Anastasia. No one adored Ana more deeply and faithfully than Sharon (Jonathan’s wife, our Volunteer Coordinator). Sharon always cherished Ana and always advocated for her, and Ana’s entire countenance would brighten whenever Sharon entered the room. I know how painful this […]
If there’s got to be an aggressive cat in a suite of 15, it helps if he also happens to also be the toothless one. Despite being dentally challenged, Desi has been causing quite a stir in Suite C the last couple of weeks.