Brave little moonchild, how I yearn to be like you. I will never have your feathery silk coat, all shimmering sable. Yours alone is the lunar energy that whirls you like joy’s dervish. But, Luna, if you teach me even a fraction of your courage, I may yet learn to shine.
February, you frisky little thing, you are the kitten of the year. Small and scampish, you leap before you look and fall smitten on unsuspecting shoulders. You fit inside a teacup, but you are as bold as an “I love you” spoken out loud. You shine into our eyes with the question that counts: be […]
You don’t need me to remind you how hard it is to be a person. Especially in winter. Especially this winter. Being a person is excruciating. Being a person is exquisite. But being a Tabby’s Place person means never having to face anything alone. And being a Tabby’s Place cat means taking care of the people who […]
Autumn is in the eyes of the beholder. Is it homework, or cardigans with pockets big enough to carry kittens? Is it decay, or farm stands selling warty gourds with googly eyes? Is it the last belch of the year, or a belated beginning?
At least once a week, someone tells me they are scared to visit Tabby’s Place. This always comes from someone blessed and challenged with a tender heart. They know their own softness. They fear they may not be able to bear the sight of cats who cannot walk, or seniors once discarded. They picture Tabby’s […]
Having spent a significant portion of my formative years in the 1980s, a lot of my pop culture references are considerably dated. Most are still more or less apropos of any given situation.
There’s a very tiny squirrel with no tail in my local rodent community. Not a nubbin. Not a shnubbin. Not even a tuftlet of a hint of a bygone blump. She’s the runt. She’s the weirdo. She’s in a perpetual state of joy. She’s undeniably in charge. We are collectively, irrevocably, exuberantly in love with […]
As you read this sentence, you’re getting older. Wait, you just did it again. Now you did it again. You can’t stop, and I won’t get in your way. But before we get all our farfalle twisted into bow ties of despair, remember: we’re not alone. The cats are aging, too.
You do it too. I know you do. Don’t feign misunderstanding. Fess up. Every single one of your cats has at least one ridiculous nickname (maybe a ridiculous actual name), and probably several nicknames, in fact. The one on my lap right now outrageously bears the given name of a physicist. Since Higgs hypothesized what […]
All twelve days of Christmas are long over. It is still winter. Much is over; much is yet to come.