Terminal degrees
Every cat at Tabby’s Place is an expert. We are packed to the gills with authorities, on topics ranging from parmigiana to campaign finance reform. But there are experts, there are authorities, and then there are scholars.
Every cat at Tabby’s Place is an expert. We are packed to the gills with authorities, on topics ranging from parmigiana to campaign finance reform. But there are experts, there are authorities, and then there are scholars.
Checkers would never tell you this himself. But with tears in our eyes and white fur on our jeans, we need the world to know. Checkers was a king.
We will not be covering the US Presidential Election on this blog. This is a selfish decision on my part, I know. But my hobbies include “avoiding panic attacks” and “not getting fired,” so here we are. Also, the cats’ preferred candidate already dropped out, by whom of course I mean Hulk Hogan. We will, […]
Being transiently ill is quite unpleasant. (Major respect to those with chronic, long-term conditions). But, as with all things in this world, nothing lasts forever.
So here we stand, at the end and the beginning. Cats know that there are only ever beginnings. Cats know many things beyond our reach. But they are gentle, and permit us to believe in figments — endings, the concept of “age appropriate,” the existence of credible vegan cheese — as long as necessary. Perhaps […]
Gabriel is the only honest-to-goodness angel of the angels. When the litter of four heaven-faced kittens arrived, our initial plan was to name them all after actual angels. But “Uriel” seemed a little too urinary, and somebody complained that “Raphael” was better fit for a turtle of the teenaged mutant ninja variety than a tabby […]
Sometimes what’s simple is true. There’s no “new math” required here: loving human + stripey kitten = neverending specialness.