A litany of love
When we are afraid, may we be turned into love. When we are excruciatingly squirrelly, may we be turned into love. When the urge to dance to Pitbull’s song about coronavirus overcomes us,* may we be turned into love.
Candace the grandest
All cats are great. All cats are good. Comparison is the thief of joy. But sometimes, dangit, there truly can only be one.
The Donna
Tabby’s Place may or may not have a Diabetic Mafia.* The Diabetic Mafia may or may not have a Don…na.
Epilogues: December 2017
Oh, frisky feisty January. You are longer than your 31 days, starting with fireworks and ending with “finally!” You are the time for cold crunch under our feet and Christmas leftovers gone crusty. You are the month of few holidays and generally muted merriment. But those who live among cats have all the frisk and […]
The flow with which they go
We live in an age of indignation. Much of it is necessary. But much of it is just noxious.
Philosophy and pancreases
In between kissing Bucca’s head and raising money for Bucca all the cats, I thought some existential thoughts this week. These were sparked by adventures in diabetes.
Reese’s peace
If you watch television, you “learn” certain things. Certain brands of cat food will cause your pet to have a hallucinogenic, quasi-religious experience. Certain politicians will literally fix all the problems that ever existed and make everything awesome all the time. And a certain diagnosis means you are inevitably enormous, out of shape, and probably […]
Epilogues: April 2016
April, are you really the cruelest month? You took one Prince, but you gave us another in his bathrobe. You took too many friends, but you promised to return them in an April that will never end.