There’s a reason you visit this hard-hitting, peer-reviewed, academically rigorous blog. You come here for cutting-edge discoveries and sophisticated hypotheses. You come for Copernican revolutions and challenging concepts. You come for explosive information such as this: kittens are cute.
As August ambushes July with a Super Soaker, we’re feeling ruffled in Ringoes. Cats are reasonable. They do not expect life to be a constant stream of meat products. They accept that sometimes the best they can do is a burger made of twenty slices of cheese. But no one at Tabby’s Place can accept […]
These Difficult Times have had their own strange tenderness. Let’s not lose it when we’re back to…whatever we’re going back to.
When you were a kid, did you think “getting trapped in quicksand” was something you’d realistically have to worry about throughout your life? Me, too. (Thanks a lot, Saturday morning cartoons.) Turns out we were right…but who knew the quicksand would be metaphorical?
These are the times that call for parchment and inkwells. These are the hours for which we wait. These are the days of female cats in Suite FIV.
Don’t call it a misspelling. It’s a poet’s prerogative to play with language like a Slinky.
This post is already off to the wrong start. It’s not fair to say that the population of Suite FIV is down by one. The number “one” cannot convey the colossal tectonic event that has occurred.
It’s the Feast Day of St. Francis of Assisi. It’s the eve of Tabby’s Place’s 15th anniversary. I’ll let my words be few.
Be it known: beautiful things get missed much too often. Case in point: Saturn just came really close to the moon. If we were looking, we could have seen four planets at once. Four. (Five, if you looked down at the one you were standing on.) Case in second point: Minneapolis could have shut down […]
Meet Rufus. He is what you would call a doofus — or, as they spell it in the land of his people, dufus. But woe to the one who looks at Rufus and sees an uncomplicated dufus.