Repaint the cave
If you’ve survived long enough to read this sentence, then you, my dear, are a storyteller. And if you’ve survived elegantly, you know when to share your pen with the nearest cat.
C.B. radio
One of the greatest moments of my life is recreating itself as we speak. No one should be so lucky as to live through this twice. But then, no one could ever deserve the delight of knowing Crinkle Bob.
The mutually amazing society
I’m going to let you in on a secret. We’re all a bunch of miracles around here. We are simultaneously a bunch of buffoons. Ergo: it is high time to blow up the biggest, brightest balloons.
Repudiated or combobulated
Love and pain will find us all, like a million Waldos befuddled under striped hats. Love and pain will make us turn around and face ourselves. Will we repudiate or rejoice?
Epilogues: February 2022
The world is weeping. Our brothers and sisters are shuddering in subways, crawling across borders, bearing their children and their grandparents and their ragged animals on their backs. Are we supposed to bask in jolly cat happenings at such a time as this?
Epilogues: January 2022
January hath given, and January hath taken away. January hath given us Zebra Cake ice cream, and January hath taken away all remaining laughable attempts by our species to appear dignified. January hath taken away our queen Betty White (and our gentle jester Louie Anderson, and our soaring bard Meat Loaf), and January hath given […]
Epilogues: December 2021
This has not been a normal holiday season. Fortunately, Tabby’s Place contains precisely zero normal cats, normal humans, or normal salamanders. (I can neither confirm nor deny the underground salamander kingdom of Tabby’s Place, nor their effective rule over the rest of us.)