What shall we say of Coconut?
She is too young for pina coladas, although she will probably get carded all her life.
She bears little resemblance to the Hostess confection, although pink is her color.
She has not been shredded, although life’s teeth certainly tried.
Coconut’s sweetness exceeds ten million macaroons.
Most kittens concern themselves with mocking gravity and seeing how many niblets of kibble they can insert into their cheeks simultaneously. (I have seen Proton turn to Neutron and say, “Dude, check this out!”)
Meanwhile, Coconut ripples with calling.
She is small enough to fit in a hurricane glass, but she knows she was sent to calm storms. Coconut is certain she was sent to our shores to love. She will turn New Jersey into a tropical paradise. She will comfort people by the sheer power of her blue sky.
Even the Peace Corps pauses for breakfast. Meanwhile, a kitten the color of Cream of Wheat is coming up with new ways to feed the world.
You think I am being fanciful. I respond with an honest challenge: meet Coconut.
Meet Coconut, and your first question will be, “where have you been all my life?” Answer: preparing to meet you. Coconut is never late or early.
Your second question will be, “why are you so small?”
Coconut is not ashamed of the answer, although there are far more interesting things to talk about. For instance, did you know the internal medicine specialist knows how to do the hula? Coconut is telling the truth, she would never lie to you.
The specialist met Coconut, and his knees went all wiggly-wobbly. If you didn’t know better, you might think he was about to pass out, but he was just having an appropriate reaction to Coconut. He was swooning. He was smitten.
Now you have a third question. Why did Coconut see the specialist?
Well, because he needed her, of course, just like everyone else. Oh, that’s not what you meant, is it?
Well, Coconut doesn’t think this is terribly interesting, either, but she’ll tell you. When she first fell from heaven to earth — or maybe some palm tree, she can’t remember — it was a bit of a hard landing. She was born with some silly symptoms. Her liver told bad jokes, and her bottom had a bad attitude, and — well, she can barely recall this part — nobody quite knew what to do with her. She needed baths, and patience,. She passed between many hands that could not hold her.
But wouldn’t you rather hear about Tabby’s Place?
Tabby’s Place is an island in the midst of a land-locked, country-fried county in New Jersey. It’s true. Tabby’s Place keeps all the tiki torches on for cats who are small, or strange, or saddled with silly symptoms.
Coconut knows that this includes all of us, even the tall ones like you who have no shredded coconut on their arms and legs. (She knows it’s called “fur.” She knows she’s funny, too.) Tabby’s Place is the party island, for everyone whose invitation to other parties got lost in the mail.
At this point, Coconut will be urgently interested in molding herself like a snack cake into the crook of your neck. Do you really still want to hear about the specialist?
Well, alright. He thought Coconut might have something called a liver shunt. This could explain why she would not grow, and why her liver was a very unfunny comedian. But here’s the punch line, as bawdy as a bendy straw in a Shirley Temple. Coconut does not have a liver shunt. Coconut’s condition is … low cholesterol.
Yes. Coconut has a medical issue that would make your grandmother jealous. (There is more to Coconut’s condition, but we are still figuring that out. Be assured she is in the very best of hands.)
The prognosis? Party. Coconut’s sleepy eyes flicker open as she tells you this. That’s party with an asterisk. To Coconut, party means “purpose.” It also kinda means “pineapple,” the symbol for hospitality. Coconut is here to love everyone, from specialists, to ballerinas, to all the nerds who ever lived. That should cover all of us.
Hey, now Coconut has a question for you.
Do you know what’s great about being small? You never forget that you fit in the palm. Also, you have something in common with Hobbits, which is always a good thing. Coconut likes that line from the movie, “It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.”
Coconut has never met anyone she would call “ordinary,” but maybe that’s the whole point.
What shall we say of Coconut? She’s on a quest, and anyone this sweet will certainly succeed.