To the naked eye, Tabby’s Place appears to be a cat sanctuary. A special cat sanctuary, certainly. One-of-a-kind. Sensational. Smitten with specifically those cats the world forgot. But Tabby’s Place is more than it appears: an outpost of love. A living, purring, peeing parable. A tumbler of timeless truths. And a place where August can […]
Wait. Did we not just epp a log? We did. But that’s because I’m a dunderhead. So dance around in your dungarees, you January-jousting kittens; it’s time for another month in review.
There’s a lot of leaping involved in what we do at Tabby’s Place. I don’t mean over dribbles of diarrhea. I don’t mean around sleeping cats. At least, I don’t mean exclusively those things. I mean leaps of the faithful kind.
It’s a cryin shame. Tabby’s Place has never had cats with any of the following names: The Colonel, The Captain, The Commissioner or The Admiral. But there’s hope. The sanctuary’s classiness quotient spiked 7,000% with the arrival of Barley.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of something no eyes should see. And mine ears have heard the yowls of a Community Room divided. Gunther is here, and he’s declared war.
It doesn’t get much worse than a world of ”always winter, never Christmas.” On the other hand, it doesn’t get much better than a world of all Winter, all the time.
Tonight, we’ll all see a Super Moon rising. There’s just one thing even more super than this. Tell me true: what’s superior to Supernanny, a supermajority, Super Mario, and even the Price is Right’s famous Superball?
There’s no guarantee that a cat’s appearance – or a human’s, for that matter – will match his personality. But every so often, there comes a perfect fit between cuteness and character. So it is with Harley.