There’s no beating around this bristly, brutal bush. August 2018 dealt some awfulness in extremis at Tabby’s Place.
“It’s gonna be May.” – Justin Timberlake “It already is.” – Angela Hartley and 120 cats
“April is the cruelest month.” – T.S. Eliot “T.S. Eliot is incorrect.” – Angela Hartley and 120 cats
Everything old is new again. That isn’t, however, due to it being January. That’s due to the sunrise every morning, and the hope that years can’t hinder…and the cats that keep coming.
Oh December. Just when we’re ready to write you off as a dastardly doer of dastardly deeds, you give us a thrill of hope, and some out-of-season kittens.
Kittens are kittens, until they are not. It’s for hard-hitting facts like this that you turn to Felis Catus.
By the time you read this post, nerd prom will be over, the madding crowd will be far away, and a big green chap and his gangsters will be avenging on our behalf.* But much more importantly, things will have happened. They will have happened…because cats made them happen.
OK, winter, we get it: you’re stronger than us. You dang near broke Boston. March came in like a lion and out like a friggin’ manticore. Yes, you’re stronger than us. You’re stronger…but we’re cuter. And scrappier. And we have much, much better musical taste.