The Lounge has changed. The Lounge has not changed. The Lounge is complicated.
April, sweet April, T.S. Eliot had you all wrong. You’re not the cruellest month. You’re not trying to show us fear in a handful of dust.
We human beings, poor delicate orchids that we are, get all blushy and bashful over our odors and vapors and assorted effluvia. Cats, on the other hand, are proud of it all — perhaps especially their snot rockets.
Lyrical gangsta and all-around awesome human Albert Schweitzer supposedly said the following: “There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats.”
Strange, sweet little February, we salute you You gave us conversation hearts. (LUV YA. Mean it.) You gave us political heartburn. You gave us Cake by the Ocean.
When you’re grateful, you see the secret glitter on everything. When you’re grateful, your own purring is contagious.
Sometimes even I know better than to ornament something with too-many words. On this Mardi Gras, the emphasis at Tabby’s Place is on the Gras.
It amazes me how, often, a cat who lived as the ultimate wallflower in a suite of 17 rowdy roomies will bloom into a quirky, gregarious creature once you put her in a smaller pad. No kitty displays this phenomenon better than our Raja.