Tiny Paws and Second Chances

06/05/2026

Hi friends. It’s me, Topanga ❤️
I have a confession.

For months now, Mom has been blaming everyone else for the disappearance of her hair ties.

Kevin gets blamed.

My human sister gets blamed.

Sometimes she even blames herself.

Meanwhile, I have been living a life of crime.

The thing is, Mom doesn't understand how suspicious hair ties are.

Every morning she puts these stretchy little rings in her hair. Then every night she leaves them sitting on the bathroom counter, the nightstand, the kitchen table, or sometimes she just drops one on the floor like she's personally delivering it to me.

Naturally, I collect them.

Mom keeps calling this "stealing."

I call it organizing.

The problem is that Mom never appreciates my hard work. A hair tie starts out on the bathroom counter, but then it clearly wants to go on an adventure. So I bat it around the house for a while. Sometimes it slides under the refrigerator. Sometimes it disappears behind the couch. Occasionally one ends up tucked safely under my banana blanket for later.

What happens after that is honestly between the hair tie and fate.

Last night Mom caught me red-pawed running through the hallway with a hair tie hanging from my mouth. She gasped like she'd uncovered some huge mystery.

"TOPANGA!"

Excuse me? First of all, that is a very aggressive way to address a tiny baby kitten.

Second, if she wanted to keep her hair ties, perhaps she shouldn't leave them unattended.

Mom says she has purchased at least a hundred hair ties this year.

I would like the record to show that I know exactly where ninety-seven of them are.

Unfortunately, I will not be taking any further questions.

Love,

Topanga Banana Frank
Professional Hair Tie Relocation Specialist and

06/04/2026

Hi friends. It’s me, Topanga ❤️
Mom said I should share an update on all of the foster babies, which seems like a lot of responsibility for someone who only recently discovered bananas are an actual food.

Let's start with Olive and Penelope.

The humans were a little worried about Penelope because her tummy was very swollen. There was some concern about something called FIP, so they went to the vet Monday and had bloodwork done. Thankfully, her protein levels looked good, which made FIP much less likely. Both girls were started on fiber along with their tylosin, and I am pleased to report their bellies are looking much better already.

Penelope also has an adhesion on her eye. We are trying steroid eye drops and hoping that helps. If not, she will need some additional evaluation from the vet.

They also received their very first FVRCP vaccines, which Mom says is a big milestone. Personally, I think surviving me opening their crate was the bigger milestone, but nobody asked.

Tucker also visited the vet. He has a slight upper respiratory infection, so he started antibiotics while we wait for the results of his respiratory panel. The good news is his stool sample came back negative, which made everyone very happy. Once his sniffles are gone, he'll get his first vaccine too.

Now for the orange babies.

Saturday night Mom brought home two extremely sick little orange strays. Sunday morning they started vomiting up a large number of roundworms, so they received pyrantel right away. They also needed Revolution for fleas, but we wanted to wait an extra day because their tiny bodies were already fighting so much.

Unfortunately, one of the babies passed away Sunday night.

Sometimes rescue is really hard. He was just so weak and sick when he arrived. The president of PAWS came over and tested him for panleukopenia and thankfully the result was negative, but we were all very sad to lose him.

Then Monday afternoon we got a surprise call that a third sibling had been found.

So naturally Mom said yes.

This new baby is somehow even more feral than the first two. Which honestly feels a little competitive. He doesn't trust humans yet, but Mom keeps saying that love, patience, and snacks can work miracles. The two surviving babies will be seeing the vet soon for treatment of their upper respiratory infections and a full checkup.

Rosie, Roxy, and River all had exciting grown up appointments too. They have now been spayed and neutered, and today they received their rabies vaccines.

Rowan is still the tiniest member of that crew and needs to gain a few more ounces before he's ready for surgery. Mom keeps calling him a peanut. I think that's rude. He is clearly a very small potato.

And finally, there is Mochi.

Mochi has moved to another foster home where she can get much more one on one attention. Mom misses her, but she's doing wonderful and coming out of her shell more every day. Sometimes the best thing rescue can do is find the right place for each cat to thrive.

Before I go, Mom wanted me to say something very important.

These babies are incredibly expensive. Vet visits, medications, vaccines, testing, special food, flea treatment, and emergency care add up very quickly. None of this would be possible without all of you.

Every donation, every item sent from our wish list, every share, every comment, and every kind message helps more than you know. Mom and I are forever grateful for the support you've shown these babies. Because of you, kittens like Olive, Penelope, Tucker, the orange babies, and so many others get a chance they otherwise wouldn't have had.

So thank you for helping us save lives, one tiny whisker at a time. ❤️

The good news is that lots of babies are getting healthier, stronger, and closer to finding the forever homes they deserve.

The bad news is that I am apparently expected to share my toys with all of them.

Please keep the foster babies in your thoughts as they continue to heal.

Love,
Topanga Banana Frank 🍌

Professional Foster Supervisor
Part Time Crate Door Technician

https://gofund.me/9a7586b07

https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/2DMZ75O1XU9MX?ref_=wl_share

06/04/2026

Friends, can someone explain why the foster kittens think it's okay to play with MY toys? Especially my ice cream truck????

I don't go into their crate and play with their things.

Mostly because I already let them out and they don't have a crate anymore.

But that's not the point.

The point is that sharing is a very confusing concept when the toy belongs to me. 🍌

06/04/2026

Hi friends. It’s me, Topanga Banana Frank ❤️🍌
And today I have a very serious question.

Why am I named after something I have never even tasted?

I was thinking about this earlier while I was sitting in my banana bed, holding one of my banana toys, looking at my banana blanket, and it suddenly hit me. I have never actually eaten a banana. Not once.

Which feels like a pretty significant oversight.

My middle name is literally Banana. Do you know how embarrassing it is to realize you have built your entire personal brand around something you've never even tried?

Humans are always saying things like, "Topanga loves bananas!"

Do I?

How would anyone know? I've never been given one.

For all I know, bananas could be terrible. What if they taste like disappointment? What if I've spent seven months dedicating my life to a fruit that isn't even good? I feel like these are questions I deserve answers to.

At this point I think I'm less of a cat and more of a fruit-themed marketing campaign.

Honestly, this feels like a pretty serious situation. I mean, imagine if Frankie Joe Frank Chunky Monkey Princess woke up tomorrow and discovered she wasn't actually chunky. The identity crisis. The confusion. The paperwork. That's basically what I'm dealing with right now.

So I would like to formally request a banana. A tiny piece. For research purposes.

Because I believe every cat deserves to know the truth about their identity.

And if I don't like it, I would also like everyone to agree that I should immediately be renamed Topanga Rotisserie Chicken Frank.

Thank you for your cooperation.

🍌 Topanga Banana Frank
A cat desperately seeking answers.

06/03/2026

Hi friends. It’s me, Topanga. ❤️
Well... I think I might have gotten in a little bit of trouble yesterday.

First of all, I would like to start by saying that Mom left me home alone. ALONE. I am only seven months old. Is that even legal? Shouldn't there be rules about this sort of thing? Shouldn't there be a babysitter? A spare human here at all times? Should someone call ASPCA?

Mom claims she was at work. My human sister was gone too. And all of my brothers and sisters were sleeping. Because they are old.

So there I was. A tiny, innocent baby. Bored out of my mind.

That's when I noticed Olive and Penelope.

Now technically they are still foster babies, so they have to stay in their crate when Mom isn't home. But from where I was sitting, they looked less like foster babies and more like potential best friends.

So I walked over to the crate. I examined the situation. I assessed the security measures. And then I simply lifted the latch and let them out.

Because honestly, it wasn't even that difficult.

The three of us immediately got to work doing important kitten activities. We emptied the toy box. Every single toy. There were mice everywhere. Balls everywhere. Springs everywhere. At one point I think Penelope was carrying three toys at once.

We were having the greatest day of our lives.

Then Mom came home.

Friends...

She walked into the kitten room and just stood there.

There were toys covering the entire floor. Olive was running laps. Penelope was under a chair. And I was sitting in the middle of the room looking very pleased with myself.

Mom said, "TOPANGA BANANA FRANK."

And that's when I learned that being greeted by your full government name is rarely a positive experience.

Apparently I am not supposed to release foster kittens from prison.

Mom called it a crate.

I called it a difference in opinion.

The good news is that everyone was safe.

The bad news is that Mom has upgraded security.

The worse news is that she now knows I can open doors.

I would like the record to show that I wasn't causing trouble.

I was creating memories.

And sometimes the difference between "chaos" and "an adventure" is simply who tells the story.

06/02/2026

Hi everyone!
My name is Merideth Frank, and while I may not be the oldest cat in this house, I am absolutely the mother of this family.

Someone has to be.

You see, Mom has this habit of bringing home tiny foster kittens that are dirty, hungry, scared, and usually making very questionable life choices. Mom always says she's saving them.

I say she's creating paperwork for me.

Because the truth is that kittens need a mama cat. Not a mama human.

Humans are fine for things like bottles, vet appointments, and buying toys. But when it comes to raising babies properly, they need someone who knows what they're doing.

That's where I come in.

For as long as I can remember, I've taken care of every foster baby that has come through these doors. I wash them, cuddle them, keep them warm, and make sure they know they're loved. I even let them nurse on me, despite the fact that I have absolutely no milk to offer. The babies don't seem to mind, and frankly, neither do I.

Somebody has to comfort them while Mom runs around asking Google questions and pretending she has everything under control.

I worry about all of them. I watch over them. I make sure they're clean, dry, and safe.

And then one day, Mom brought home a tiny little kitten named Topanga.

I loved her immediately.

When Mom finally decided Topanga was old enough to roam the house, I knew she was mistaken. That baby was far too little to be wandering around unsupervised.

So whenever I found her exploring on her own, I would simply pick her up and carry her somewhere safe.

Usually the bathtub.

Mom thought it was funny.

I thought it was responsible parenting.

Topanga may tell you I was being bossy, but the truth is I was protecting her. Someone had to make sure she survived long enough to become the tiny menace she is today.

These days I still watch over everyone. The fosters. My brothers and sisters. Topanga.

It's a big job, but somebody has to keep this family running.

And based on what I've seen around here, it certainly isn't going to be Mom.

Love,
Merideth
House Mother
Professional Foster Kitten Supervisor
Unpaid Employee Since Birth

06/02/2026

Hi friends. It’s me, Topanga ❤️
I am processing a lot of emotions today.

First, I suppose I should tell you that the tiny stinky bottle baby officially has a name.

Everyone please say hello to Tucker.

I understand that getting a name is a very big deal. I remember when I got mine. It was a wonderful day. I became Topanga Banana Frank, which is obviously one of the greatest names ever given to a cat.

So congratulations, Tucker.

However.

There is something much more concerning that happened yesterday.

When Mom brought Tucker home from the vet, she put his medicine on the counter. Apparently he has a little cold or something. Personally, I think Mom overreacted. Every time somebody sneezes around here, she loads them into a carrier and drives away.

But that is not the issue.

The issue is what I saw written on the prescription label.

Friends.

It said... Tucker Frank.

I stared at it.

Then I stared at Mom.

Then I stared at it again.

Tucker. Frank.

EXCUSE ME?

Since when are we just handing out Frank last names?

Is there paperwork involved? An application process? A waiting period? A committee meeting? Because I certainly was not consulted.

Now Mom claims it was "just for the vet records." That sounds exactly like something a mom would say.

Naturally, I demanded answers.

Mom said, "Topanga, he is a foster baby. He needs a last name for the vet. He's not staying."

Which honestly did make me feel a little better.

But also...
that is exactly what she said about approximately 97% of the animals that have ever lived in this house.

So while I have been assured that Tucker is simply borrowing the Frank name temporarily, I will still be monitoring the situation closely. Especially if anyone starts talking about middle names.

Because Tucker Frank is one thing.

Tucker Theodore Frank is an entirely different level of concern.

For now, I am choosing to trust Mom.

Reluctantly.

But I will be keeping one eye open during all future family meetings.

Sincerely,

Topanga Banana Frank
Official Keeper of the Frank Last Name

06/01/2026

My name is Delilah Rose Frank.

Friends, I suppose it is finally time for a proper introduction.

You may have seen me in the background of photos looking beautiful, sophisticated, and mildly inconvenienced by everyone around me. That is because I am.

Unlike some members of this household, whose names may or may not rhyme with Topanga Banana Frank, I do not spend my days falling into toilets, chasing invisible things, or making poor life choices for entertainment purposes. I prefer a quieter lifestyle. A refined lifestyle. A lifestyle where my hair is always perfect, my appearance is flawless, and nobody touches me unless I specifically approved it in advance.

Mom says I was her first bottle baby. Not the first Frank cat. That title belongs to Sebastian. But I was the first tiny kitten she ever raised from a bottle. The one who started it all. Before the countless late night feedings. Before the foster kittens. Before rescue became such a huge part of Mom's life. There was me.

Which, if you ask me, makes me kind of a big deal.

I have spent years carefully maintaining my position as Mom's special girl. Then one day she started bringing home more bottle babies. And then more. And then apparently she decided this was going to become a full time hobby.

I did not approve this decision.

I simply learned to live with it.

I am not particularly interested in children. I am even less interested in babies. I enjoy peace, quiet, personal space, and looking expensive for absolutely no reason. My hobbies include judging everyone's decisions, maintaining impeccable standards, and appearing mysteriously in photographs like a wealthy widow who owns several vacation homes.

As for Topanga Banana Frank...

She is very small. Very loud. And very committed to turning every ordinary day into an emergency.

Sometimes she follows me around as if I possess ancient wisdom. I do not. Most of the time I am thinking about snacks and wondering why everyone is being so dramatic.

Still, I suppose she is trying her best.

And while I would never admit this to her face, I occasionally allow her to exist near me.

Anyway, I am Delilah Rose Frank. Mom's first bottle baby. The reason she fell in love with bottle babies in the first place.

And while the rest of this family may thrive on chaos...

I will continue looking fabulous enough for all of us.

06/01/2026

Hi friends. It’s me, Topanga ❤️
Well...I did it!

After months of hard work, dedication, determination, and being repeatedly told, "You're too little for that, Topanga," I have officially learned how to climb all the way up to the wall hammock.

I would like everyone to take a moment to appreciate this achievement.

As many of you know, I arrived here as a tiny stinky bottle baby who weighed approximately the same as a chicken nugget and required assistance with basically everything. At two weeks old, I could barely wobble across a blanket without falling over.

But even then, I had dreams.

Big dreams.

Dreams of reaching the mysterious upper levels of the cat room.

Dreams of becoming one of those important cats who sit above everyone else and silently judge the household.

Today, those dreams became reality.

After much climbing, stretching, investigating, and a few moments where Mom looked mildly concerned, I finally figured out how to get myself all the way up here.

And now that I have arrived, I completely understand why Meredith is always hanging out up here.

First of all, the hammock is incredibly comfortable.

Second, I can take a bath without being interrupted by tiny stinky foster kittens.

Third, I have a full view of the foster room, which means I can supervise everyone without actually participating.

And fourth, I can see out the window.

I don't know exactly what I'm looking for, but it feels important.

Honestly, this might be the best real estate in the entire house.

Mom says I'm getting to be such a big girl.

From stinky bottle baby to penthouse princess.

What a journey.

And if anyone needs me, I'll be up here doing important executive-level cat business.

The view is better when you've climbed for it. 🍌👑🐾

05/31/2026

Hi friends. It’s me, Topanga ❤️
Mom says I need to wake up from my nap to make an important announcement.

Normally my announcements are about boxes, bananas, suspicious noises in the garage, or the ongoing tragedy of having to share my house with tiny foster kittens.

Unfortunately, this is not one of those announcements.

Some of the babies Mom is helping are really sick.

Penelope and Olive have been fighting some very big tummy problems for a long time. They already had special medicine, but they are still not feeling better and now need more testing to figure out what's wrong.

Mom also recently brought home two tiny orange kittens who came from outside and have a very yucky sickness. They need vet visits, medicine, and lots of care.

I know I joke about foster kittens a lot. And yes, I still think many of them are sticky, loud, and occasionally smell questionable.

But the truth is Mom never stops helping them.

She stays up late giving medicine, cleans up messes nobody wants to talk about, and somehow always finds room for one more kitten who needs a chance.

Today I'm asking a favor.

If you've ever laughed at one of my stories, cheered me on, prayed for me, or loved one of the foster babies from afar, would you consider helping them?

Even a small donation or a share helps more kittens get the care they need.

I got my second chance because people cared.

Now I'm hoping we can help give these babies theirs too. ❤️

Love,
Topanga Banana Frank

Professional foster kitten supervisor.
Occasional troublemaker.
Full time believer in second chances.

Every time I tell myself I can't possibly take in one more sick kitten, another… Danielle Frank needs your support for Help Foster Kittens Get Lifesaving Care