She is not responsible for making the donuts. It’s below her pay grade to fold Berry‘s underpants. Sadie writes her own job description.
Riddle me this, Tabby’s Place fam. What is summer, for people with hearts like ours?
Happy New Year, kittens. Let us make a pact, today, while we still have confetti in our whiskers and something called “egg nog” in our fridges. (How did it get there? Who invented it? Why have we never had a Tabby’s Place cat named Nog? I digress.) Here’s the plan: we will not permit this […]
Things That Do Not Exist, an incomplete list: Coincidences; hopeless cats; legitimate uses of fat-free mayonnaise. If you are unsure about that first item, just ask a few cats. Preferably the “hopeless” ones.
Happy First and Last February Second of 2024! Maurice and his confrères welcome you to the new. Cats love new years. They love them so much, they celebrate them on a rolling basis. But cats hate resolutions. They hate them so much, they are here to save us from them, at great personal cost.
Take one melon-round head. Plunk it onto a plug of a neck; attach a body shaped like a sausage (more accurately, a “saw-seech,” per my grandmother). Pin on four stubby legs. Expand belly repeatedly. Congratulations: you have built yourself one Sadie.
We came. We marched fourth. We marched thirty-first, even. And now, we shall April.
Ages of sages haven’t been able to answer this question: why does your eyebrow sometimes twitch? Or, if your name is Sadie Rosenberg,* why does your entire little grey face squiggle with spasms?