October and all of its surprises are in the books. Cubs in the Series. Cats in girdles. Swiss-cheesey holes in undisclosed locations.
In the words of Zora Neale Hurston, there are years that ask questions and years that answer. 2016 is doing an awful lot of both.
Many people would benefit from your freaking out right now. The cats are not among those people.
This week in the U.S., we honor those who served. This week every second of every hour of every day at Tabby’s Place, we honor those who serve are served.
We don’t generally want to need each other. Fortunately, we’re not in control.
My barrister friends have often said that, when it comes to law school, if you make it through torts, you can make it. I assumed this famously difficult class on torts must be on the topic of torts, as in, wrongful acts leading to civil legal liability. Now I know: it was on tortoiseshell cats.
I thought I knew about the blues. I thought I wasn’t wild about the blues. Now I think I was a dunderhead.
I confess befuddlement before the cult of celebrity. I have never been one to dream of catching a wispy glimpse of someone known to many someones. This is as true of famous humans* as it is of famous cats.
The arrival of The World’s Most Famous Infant has people talking about royalty: crowns and Union Jacks and kingly things. People who know about these things say it’s good to be king. To which, as often, the Tabby’s Place cats say: o really?
You may be familiar with the league of extraordinary gentlemen. If you’re extra-excellent, you might be a member of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows. But you’ve gotta be a breed apart to make your home in the Tabby’s Place lobby.