Well Pollenated neighborhood
Tabby’s Place has a lot in common with New York City. I don’t mean the fashion, the graffiti or even the undying affection of Woody Allen. I mean the neighborhoods.
Golden Dobro
Chickens are best left uncounted until they’re hatched. Gold medals are best left un-boasted-of until they’re swinging around your neck. Adoptions are best left unblogged until they’re official.
Interdependence day
When in the course of feline events, it becomes necessary for one cat suite to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to […]
All hail the Queen
Y’all may have heard that British succession rights changed recently. But one royal rule hasn’t changed, isn’t changing, and ain’t gonna change even if you sit up and beg for buttermilk: there’s only one Queen in Suite B.
Being good
Keeping up with cats can be like Whac-a-Mole. Speaking of which, was anyone else ever troubled by the whole premise? Aren’t there things far more whackworthy than cute, furry moles? I guess “Whac Injustice” or “Whac The Darkness In One’s Own Soul” isn’t quite as arcade-worthy. But I digress.
To assemble a supercommittee
Apparently the country’s in the very best of hands. They tell me that our debt problems are in the care of a supercommittee. As best I can tell, any committee worthy of being called super must be made up of cats.
Glorious and victorious
Back in middle school, I had a good friend who was known for exclaiming, during tough times, “How am I expected to remain victorious under these circumstances??!” Yeah. I was a weird middle schooler. (I’ve changed a lot not at all.) But, today, the news is wall-to-wall victorious.
Places in the heart(-shaped nose)
This week witnessed the cancellation of a certain Kate’s show. Fortunately, it also witnessed the success of a different Kate’s showing-off.
Slugged right outta the park
What’s all the fuss about some Derek Jeter guy hitting 3,000 baseballs? I mean, that’s cool and all, but not in comparison with another slugger and eight-plus FIV+ cats.
Outta etas
Tabby’s Place is blessed in many ways. But as of this afternoon, we are woefully short in a key commodity: cats whose names end with the seventh letter of the Greek alphabet.