Funny thing about cats…
Actually, make that funny thing #8,732 about cats: they are entirely unconcerned about other people’s schedules.
I was going to title this post Divine Inpurruptions, but as soon as I typed it I threw up in my mouth a little bit. (True confession: with sporadic exceptions, puns generally make me a little twitchy.) But punny or otherwise, our favorite species is a master of meddling with our plans.
Case in point: all those hearts currently cluttering the white board in the Community Room. (Yes, they are clutter. Yes, we are proud to be heart hoarders at Tabby’s Place. And if any “personal organizer” arrives to clean out our supply of hearts, they will face the wrath of 100 cats.) Each heart represents a recently-adopted cat. More hearts = more adoptions. More adoptions = more happy, forever-homed cats. More forever-homed cats = more cats we can rescue at Tabby’s Place. And that = bliss.
But it’s a lesser-known fact that more adoptions = more interruptions. Each adoption means a person popped in, lured one of us from our doings, and interrupted something so we could show them legions of cats.
It’s the best thing in the Tabby’s Place universe. But it’s an interruption. And I will confess that, from time to time, being interrupted feels frustrating for a nanosecond: C’mon, random fabulous person. I was just writing the newsletter articles. Do you really have to show up this minute to give one of our cats a phenomenal home?
It’s the only way to all those hearts. And it’s the only way to the heart of what Tabby’s Place is all about: connection.
Cats to cats. Cats to humans. Humans to humans. Hearts to Love. Our little outpost of love here in Ringoes, NJ may pretend to be all about cats, but the truth is that we’re in the business of hearts, period. And some of the most delightful, delicious, sacred moments happen when the cats connect huge-hearted humans to each other. Every adoption, every visitor, every human or feline “interruption” represents worlds of love colliding.
Speaking of collisions, this new year is shaping up to be the epic mashup-smashup of love in Suite FIV. Once the land of sumo-wrestler cats who battled nearly unto the death, our rowdiest suite has gone decidedly…soft. Squishy, even.
And it’s all about Gus.
This big, white marshmallow-man of a cat is the ultimate interruption in Suite FIV. He’s not like any other cat we’ve ever seen before, and it’s not clear that his roomies even think he’s one of their species. What is clear? The Gusty winds of moosh and love are blowing strong in there. If Festivus is for the rest of us, this year’s best Festivus plus was Gus. The Cain train may have derailed, but it’s all aboard on the Gus bus. OK, I will stop now.
Anyway, as you can see in this photo from Jonathan, it’s a big, smooshy loooooooooovefest in Suite FIV. To fully appreciate this post-Christmas, pre-New Year, mid-Chanukah, fully-festive miracle, consider this: it wasn’t long ago that Suite FIV was loaded up on Prozac, just to keep the cats from all annihilating each other. It wasn’t that long ago that we had to create an elaborate “east side/west side” division between the Suite FIV solarium and suite, just to keep Dusty and Nuttin from flooding the room planet with each other’s blood.
But all of a sudden, it’s a great big Doris Day movie in there.
So the next time a person/enormous white cat/generic 3rd item interrupts your well-planned day, consider it a divine gift. (That’s divine, not Divine.) You’re being nudged towards something better than previously scheduled, by the Architect of connection.
Felis Catus friends, may your New Year’s eve eve eve be blessed with connection.