It may be Black Friday (in the US, at least), and there may be a lot of attention on bloated tummies and massive sales. Not at Tabby’s Place (except maybe the slightest loosening of waistbands). Fridays are days, just like every day, for focusing attention on cats. The FIV+ crew think they deserve extra special […]
Much will be asked of you today. Sweep the Cheerios from the kitchen floor. Click all the pictures of stoplights. Deliver meat nuggets to a cat who thinks he is Caligula. Remember Magda.
What is the goal? Where is the end of the rainbow? Why is there always a carrot on the end of the stick, when it could be a brick of Spam?
With apologies to her namesake, Tabby’s Place is the home of the only girl in the world. Now we just need to convince Rihanna that she’s safe under our umbrella.
What if we all sat around the fireplace and pulled oysters and pearls from our week? The cats would strongly prefer that we pull all the catfish out of all the bayous and dance like Kokopelli around the bonfire, but they’ll accept this pale substitution.
I love Polly. It’s true. I love Polly, and I don’t care who knows. Wait, that’s not quite right. I love Polly, and I want everyone to know, so that you’ll all love her, too.
Summon the cymbals and tympanis of autumn. This, kittens, was The Month. I don’t mean the month in which fall fell into place, although that’s grand. I don’t mean the month in which the universe bestowed us with Snoop Loopz cereal, although that’s transcendent. I don’t mean the month in which Tabby’s Place hosted both […]
To the naked eye, Tabby’s Place appears to be a cat sanctuary. A special cat sanctuary, certainly. One-of-a-kind. Sensational. Smitten with specifically those cats the world forgot. But Tabby’s Place is more than it appears: an outpost of love. A living, purring, peeing parable. A tumbler of timeless truths. And a place where August can […]
The other day, my hubby and I returned my mom to my sister’s house, her primary residence. We’re a quaranteam, so we’re sharing. It works out nicely for everyone: varied household dynamics, changes in company, someone else to look at (or not), and different walls for my mom.
There’s no pleasant way to say this. The tulips are toast.