At middle school dances, there is sometimes an unscripted moment that makes the awkward years worthwhile. Without command or choreography, the scared and scattered youth form a circle around one of their own. Instead of becoming afraid, the tween at the center becomes a dancer.
How do we do this? I understand why people ask. If we can answer, maybe we can be ready next time. We can wrap that answer in a handkerchief and carry it in our pockets. The next time sadness is taller than we are, we can grasp that answer like a key, or an EpiPen, […]
At least once a week, someone tells me they are scared to visit Tabby’s Place. This always comes from someone blessed and challenged with a tender heart. They know their own softness. They fear they may not be able to bear the sight of cats who cannot walk, or seniors once discarded. They picture Tabby’s […]
Never underestimate a hospice cat. He can blur the lines of “caregiver” and “patient.” He can wear his crumpled ears like a crown of marigolds. He can soften hard days like the morning dew.
Who is this swaggering stranger introducing itself as 2025? What did it do with 2024, or 1981 for that matter? Do cats follow any calendar, other than the primordial cycle of giblets and nuggets? And most importantly: how does Theodosia, age one hundred nine, remain untouched by years?