Happy May, dear Royal Family.

When you are Queen Prescott the Great and Good, you inhabit a perpetual springtime. You are alive, and (unlike most living creatures), you know exactly what this means.

You are the girl who survived injuries “incompatible with life” in January. You are the heiress to hope’s jewels. You are the essence of April and the meaning of May.

You are having the time of your life, because you never forget how astonishing it is to have life.

Our silvery life-force is making the most of her May, as she does all hours and days. This includes the regularly scheduled daily hullaballoo with Hips, of course, but Prescott’s interests are broad and growing by the day.

When not galloping with her favorite hippopotamus or soliciting treats (on behalf of the common cats, of course; Prescott does nothing, nothing, nothing from pure self-interest), Prescott has taken up the fine art of Farving. This involves leaping sideways, backwards, and at angles that shamelessly mock gravity, all for the benefit of a one-eyed black cat.

(Like I said: Prescott’s deeds are always done for others. She is the quintessence of Good.)

On the scale from “sofa” to “Hips,” Farva‘s energy level clocks in somewhere north of Olive, just shy of Prescott. He has one eye, but one is enough when it is always open. He has a seizure disorder, but he has shaken off the lint of self-pity. He gallops, and he gladdens the world, and he drinks down his days by the gallon.

Were Prescott in need of a King, Farva might be a favorable choice.

(She is not.)

At times, Hips joins in the Farving, the white hippo thundering down the hall with the silver queen and the wingless raven in his train. The cat without the tail, the cat with the limp tail, and the cat with one eye have figured out how to concentrate centuries worth of joy into a single shared sprint. Watching them, I can get weepy.

They “should not” be here, not one of them. They “should not” be healthy, fearless, adored against all odds.

Prescott hands me a towel to mop up my “shoulds,” and then she invites me to gallop. Far be it from me to refuse a queen.

In addition to Farving, Prescott has taken up Pilates. Some have said she is doing yoga, and this is an honest mistake. Prescott admires yoga. Prescott is pleased that yoga includes poses called Happy Baby, One-Legged King Pigeon, and One-Legged King Pigeon II. But Prescott’s practice is Pilates.

Pilates can include optional gear. But the only necessary equipment is one’s own body. Prescott believes in Prescott’s own body. You might say that Prescott reveres her own body as a friend.

Can you blame her? These stripes and spots have accompanied Prescott through the seasons. These expressive ears and oceanic eyes have sensed that kindness is the crux of all things. That dangling tail, bereft of nerve endings, is a victory pennant. It is a prize ribbon. It is still here, and so is Prescott, body and soul.

So when you see Prescott pretzeling with elegant elasticity, know that she is doing Pilates.

You may wonder how Prescott gets it all done, and you may worry if she gets enough rest. Be assured that Prescott does sleep. But she is careful to only do so when nothing important is happening. Prescott slept soundly through the recent 4.8 magnitude earthquake. Prescott also slept soundly through the humans’ many reports of where we were when the earthquake happened. Prescott knows where we were when the earthquake happened. We were in Prescott’s realm, where love survives all shaking.

Prescott knows this. We forget.

Being our Queen, Prescott is privy to sensitive information long before the staff at Tabby’s Place. Sometimes she lets it leak. Recently, her standard prancing turned breathless, almost celestial. For days on end, Prescott could scarcely stay still. We knew something wonderful must be coming. Something more historic than the eclipse was headed our way. Something more momentous than the invention of squeeze-tuna was about to take place.

Sure enough, Prescott’s original rescuer visited. Even a Queen has a hero, and Prescott greeted her life-saver with all the love in her heart. (Let the reader understand that “all the love in Prescott’s heart” is a measurement beyond all measure. Scientists have proposed that the universe is constantly expanding. Scientists are aware that this is for the purpose of fitting all the love in Prescott’s heart. Scientists are concerned that the universe cannot keep up. Prescott is not concerned. Prescott simply loves.)

Dear sponsors, I would be remiss if I did not mention one item that Prescott considers too minor to mention. But, she granted me permission to tell you, since she knows that love and worry often crowd into the same space. Prescott did have one microscopic blip on the medical screen this month. Like many cats who are unable to fully express their bladders, Prescott is prone to urinary tract infections. She has been blissfully free of them for the most part, but this month she did require antibiotics. That is now behind her.

A life of springtimes is ahead of her. She wishes the same for you. She wishes she could gaze into each of your eyes and purr love back and forth to one another. (Prescott has heard the scientists say that humans cannot purr. Prescott is prepared to test this theory with you.)

But, near or far, you live inside of Prescott’s grateful heart. You are generosity walking the earth. You are love proven true. You are Prescott’s perpetual spring.

Prescott and I would like to extend a special welcome to the citizens of Carrot‘s kingdom. After nearly a decade at Tabby’s Place, Earth’s gentlest creamsicle cat has been adopted! His forever family was worth every hour of the wait.

As you can see in the photo below, Prescott personally wished Carrot a life of bliss.

Since Carrot’s sponsors are some of the most generous and glorious people ever born, we have transferred their support to Queen Prescott the Great and Good.

Dear Carrot friends, we welcome you into Prescott’s Royal Family!

The Queen and I send you our love and gratitude.

Big hug, your correspondent,
Angela