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Long long ago (c. 1987), there was a TV commercial for the National Enquirer, in which an announcer informed us, “inquiring minds want to know.” An absolutely ebullient woman then squealed, “like ME!” Apparently a lot of folks agreed, because the Enquirer has exploded in popularity since then. We’re absolutely ebullient about their top story this […]
…with all the frills upon it, you out-cute every bunny, duck and little chicky in every storybook ever written. If, that is, you are Gabriella.
Just when we think we’ve grasped the cats’ calling… Just when we think we’ve seen the full scope of their mission on earth… Along comes a whiff of grace so delicious it knocks us off our feet.
Contrary to the old adage, timing isn’t everything. Not exactly. Cupcakes are something, and so are wombats and stirrup pants. But sometimes, timing is downright divine. It’s all happening again.
Before you read this post, there are a few things you need to know. Consider it a Surgeon General’s warning, only minus the Surgeon General and plus a lot of cat hair. You can’t eat Nutter Butters if you’re allergic to peanuts. You can’t drive a tractor if you’re three years old. You can’t get […]
If you’ve not yet done your holiday shopping, allow me to extend my condolences. The malls this week will be only slightly less tragic and messy than The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, without the benefit of Gordon Lightfoot. But where there are Tabby’s Place cats, there’s hope.
Be it known: Tabby’s Place cats will no longer settle for just any old cheezburger. Now that they know about Das Burger and The Bravest Man In All The Land, their standards are permanently raised…through the roof.
True story: true love lasts. And when it’s hopelessly-devoted-to-you kinda love, it lasts forever. So it’s only fitting that we (you, me, Tashi, Bialy) are still very much in lurrrrrve with the dancing ocelot, Molly. Special thanks to her forever MollyMama for writing this glorious, picture-full update. Prepare to swoon…and dance.
What’s cute and tiny and shimmies all over? I’ll give you one more clue: she has more spots than a pimply teenager and all 101 dalmatians combined.
There are many, many Tabby’s Place-isms that old Mr. Webster (this one, not the best of the Websters) would never put in his dictionary.