Spring-loaded
Spring is eleven days old. Spring folds winter in its apron, like warm bread for later. Spring bears more than a passing resemblance to Tabby’s Place.
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Spring is eleven days old. Spring folds winter in its apron, like warm bread for later. Spring bears more than a passing resemblance to Tabby’s Place.
There are orange collared cats, and then there are orange frosted cats. There are final warnings, and then there are new beginnings.
We prefer to compare ourselves to unicorns and poetry, or at least something as honorable as string cheese. But if we’re being honest, we are the living embodiment of bowling alley bumpers. We should add this to our résumés proudly.
Cats make lousy coworkers. From friends who report SHENANIGANS while trying to work from home to my own cats (one of them, at the least, is NOT management material) to trying to get some sanctuary business done in a borrowed office at Tabby’s Place, the proof is unquestionable. Even with practice provided by increasing time […]