Catching me in the throttling throes of grief, a well meaning person once said, “well, I hope you’re a little less sad each day.” I told her that I earnestly hoped the same. But you know and I know that’s not how sorrow works.
O July! We cannot fathom why you did the things you did.
If you want to be with it, go little and local. Local produce. Local economy. Local artists. Think global, act local, be hipstery in the happiest ways. Lucky you: Tabby’s Place has a bumper crop of artisinal organic heirloom cats.
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.
Any number of things may be causing you to burn awake under the moon this fall: Iraq. Ukraine. Kanye West. The thousand tiny terrors that puncture your peace. These just might be the times that try cats’ souls. You just might need the reminder that joy wins.
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?
I’m convinced of it: each cat rolls around in a giant vat of Awesome before coming to Tabby’s Place. Although we have zero non-awesome cats, there are more varieties of awesome than there are flavors of ramen (which is also rather awesome…but I digress). Some awesome cats sparkle, some shimmer…and one opalesces.