As youze guyze are aware, the Linda Fund is afoot. From now through June 8th, if you donate through the little cloud on our homepage, your dollars will be doubled for the cats. That much, you know. Those doubled dollars will be devoted to emergency and specialty care for the neediest niblets. That much, you […]
In the immortal words of Tom Petty, “some days are diamonds; some days are rocks.” And some months are ossified turds.* September, you thieving, grieving month, we’re looking at you.
The world is a little less weird today, a little less explosive, a little less giddy and grand. We’ve lost the phenomenon known as Hootz.
Some sentences that are categorically false at all times: “That kitten is not cute.” “That episode of Family Guy was important to my spiritual growth.” “That cat absolutely loves major changes.” Well…maybe not all times.
Did your elementary school give out a Perfect Attendance Award? Did you ever win it? Did you ever win it every single year? If you did, you’re a better bean than I.
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.
Some cats live their lives on cruise control. Others put the “eek” in “control freak.”
There are no rocking chairs at Tabby’s Place. That’s true in at least two senses.
Old Tabby’s Place lore is shrouded in mystery, myth and cat hair. Why did the cats’ identification numbers start at 10, not 0? Just how many cats named Oreo have been here over the years? And how did the suites get their names?
You can cram a lot of starshine into three and a half years. That doesn’t mean three and a half years is anywhere near enough.