No one gets out of November unscathed: not you, not me, and not the star-crossed onions who gave their lives to surf your Aunt Lurlene’s green bean casserole. Elections cause feelings. Thanksgivings cause feelings. The last chrysanthemum falling to the ground? The poet trees turned naked as prose? Feelings. Feelings. Feelings. The only cure for […]
You never know, at “hello,” how deeply you will love someone. There are inklings, to be sure. But the last hour of friendship knows secrets it cannot tell the first. Today, I cannot tell you how much we will miss Rashida.
Grand Central Station in New York City is a pretty busy place. So is Tabby’s Place! As evidenced by the presence of Kenzo, Suite B is challenging the train terminals for busiest of known spaces.
The rules were clearly delineated. The recipe was printed legibly. The results rebelled.
Any one day has a way of being something different for all beings. For cats, such days can be wrapped in delicately smoked trout on crunchy crackers, or they can be whipped into a frenzy of furtive, furry activity.
I would like to kiss the New Year, but I can’t reach that high. I would like to glimpse what’s next, but I can’t open my eyes that wide. So I will simply sit here, on the floor, with the cats, telling stories.
With apologies to reindeer and polar bears, cats are the ultimate holiday animals. This is only incidentally due to their skill in conquering Christmas trees.
There are no guarantees in this world. For example, there is no guarantee that one of our cherished (ALL OF YOU!) readers won’t win a Nobel Prize in 3 years from now for something accomplished 12 years ago. There is no guarantee that Antin’s fancy new duds, intended to protect his knees, will stay in […]
Working at Tabby’s Place, your heart is a jingle ball. Your friends will get adopted, and you’ll be slammed into the baseboards, ringing “oh no! Oh yes!” Your friends will pass away, and you’ll splinter into shards, wondering if you can ever sing again. Your friends will become your best friends, and you’ll be grateful […]
It’s June, my little jitterbugs. It’s the happiest (handclap) clappiest (handclap) time of the year. Beach time. Pool time. Free-to-be-a-fool time. (Mark your calendars.) Are you singing? Why aren’t you singing? Sing to me, my angels of music. Better yet, swing this junebug into the nearest parking lot and tell me the truth, the way […]