It’s Thanksgiving at Tabby’s Place.
It’s the fourth Thursday in November.
These facts do not entirely overlap.
It’s Thanksgiving at Tabby’s Place, because the cats are living large on love.
Lola wakes up confident that the parade is for her. Let Macy’s keep their two-story Snoopy and airborne SpongeBob. The Rockettes of Ringoes are comets disguised in scrubs.
They are staff and volunteers, skipping the pre-feast cinnamon roll to roll up their sleeves. They are donors trading shiny toys for tender mercies.
It’s Thanksgiving at Tabby’s Place, because cats are exempt from the casserole of questions.
Harriet does not worry about empty bowls or cold shoulders. Harriet is losing all fluency in fear. She has removed anxiety from her resume, replaced with peace. There is no break in the buffet: food, forehead kisses, little songs known only to the cat and the crooner.
It’s Thanksgiving at Tabby’s Place, because the fourth Thursday in November is radically ordinary.
Chicken Nugget‘s rigorous schedule is unhindered by the holiday. Insulin and affection arrive as always.
Oram‘s daily doses of turkey and tomfoolery will arrive on time, because our clocks bear his face.
It’s Thanksgiving at Tabby’s Place, because love takes no holidays.
It will be Thanksgiving at Tabby’s Place tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, because you give.
You give from a place of goodness that the world can’t comprehend, but the cats can.
You give so joyously, the calendar gets confused, but the cats don’t.
You give the forgotten ones a future where every day is the big day.
You give the long-tailed “leftovers” first place in your hearts.
You give us hope that love will overcome.
We are overcome with gratitude. We are in awe.
And across the miles, we are all sitting around the same big table, together, one Tabby’s Place family.
Happy Thanksgiving, beloveds. Thank you, thank you, thank you.