There are appropriate contexts for gloves at Tabby’s Place: Conducting surgery. Cleaning (human) toilets. Performing Cabaret for Suite A. (Carrot appreciates jazz hands.) But handling jalapenos? Never.
It is no secret that my biggest heroes include our very own Jonathan and Sharon Rosenberg. Counted along with them are my husband, my boss, all the staff at Tabby’s Place, and the many, many volunteers who work with me or at different times, on similar or different shifts…you get the drift. Sure, my heroes […]
Let the woolly caterpillar shimmy like a sweater-sock. Give the stink bug his noxious due. Just don’t call the lady an insect.
Five words. Ten syllables. That comprises the entirety of the mission at Tabby’s Place: A Cat Sanctuary: Saving cats from hopeless situations. The mission could be more detailed. It doesn’t need to be. The mission could express so much more. It doesn’t have to. The mission could be neither more poignant nor profound: Saving cats […]
There must be some hidden hoard of helium in the walls of Tabby’s Place. How else to explain the ups and downs of August, our hearts bobbing like airships?
Maybe you were kind of a recluse before All Of This. (Maybe “kind of” is kind of an understatement.) Maybe you’re scared to death to admit you’re scared to death of everything returning to pre-All Of This. Maybe there are things you’ve learned to love about a global pandemic. It’s all OK. In fact, it’s […]
I’m a lifelong insomniac, and there are certain questions I ask at night. What would it look like if we all really believed we were beloved? Is it possible to perform (enact? commit?) a single shenanigan? Why haven’t Pancake and/or Sammy been adopted yet?
Because of the joys of social media (that assessment is equal parts sincere and sarcastic), by now, many of you have read about the new pet owner who informed his partner that the pets are not children, and he is not their father. After some time has elapsed, he arrives home from work, flings open […]
It does matter that you’re still here. It does matter what you do.
The other day, my hubby and I returned my mom to my sister’s house, her primary residence. We’re a quaranteam, so we’re sharing. It works out nicely for everyone: varied household dynamics, changes in company, someone else to look at (or not), and different walls for my mom.