She was named for a peanut treat, but she was no buttercup. She was sleek as onyx, but she was far more than semi-precious. She was a single piece of the mosaic, but she brought peace far and wide. She was Reese. She was ours. And we were hers.
When situations go sideways, as situations sometimes do, we tend to assign a certain speed to the process. You’ve heard the phrase a thousand times: “the situation is deteriorating rapidly.” But is it? Why so speedy, situation? Maybe everything is moving as deliberately as one Allie Rosenberg.
When the orchestra gathers, trumpets tell tall tales. Astringent oboes wake the sleepers. Fairy flutes carry the story. But it’s the humble, deep-chested cello that makes the world lean in.
Editor’s note: You may know Jae as our Volunteer Coordinator and Sanctuary Associate. There’s a chance you know Jae as Awesome Adopter of Oscar, Moonlight, and Tater. But, because Jae is as humble as they are awesome, you probably do not know Jae as Fosterer of Limitless Love. They have fostered legions of our fragile […]
If Rent was right that we “measure our lives in love,” Tanner lived at Tabby’s Place for a very, very long time. Maybe that’s why we miss him so much today.
What did Humphrey see with his marble eye? What will we see now that he’s passed from our sight?
If there’s a chill in the air today, don’t blame December. We shiver because a great fire has gone out. A great fire…in the form of one smallish, impish brown tabby.
Continued from yesterday… The countess, it turns out, was made of music, equal parts Edith Piaf and Joan Jett, opera and rock and roll and lyrical liquid honesty. (“O! I AM HUNGRY. O! I am here. O! I am AWAKE. O! you are gnarly. O! we should print meat. O! New Jersey is CRACKIN’. O! […]
It’s not easy being a countess at a cat sanctuary. But when you’re as easy to love as Consetta, you find your way.
Nyla left us on November 9th, 69 years to the day after the poet Dylan Thomas. He was 39; she was considerably older, in the scratchy arithmetic of cat years. They both knew a thing or two about rage, and light, and reigning. And on November 10th, when our grief is gale-force, we need all […]