Don’t be too quick to guess the coolest cat in the room.

It could be the debonair tuxedo with the rubbable belly and the Dean Martin meow.

Or, it could be the guy the color of granola, with a literal chip on his shoulder.

Chicken Nugget is not exactly known for being cool. He is a Ford Tempo, not a Tesla. He is a bassoon, not a saxophone. He is oatmeal, not shakshuka. He does not even know how to pronounce “shakshuka.” (Neither do I.)

Chicken Nugget is so bashful, blood tests confirm he is full of a substance called “bash.” If all the cats were invited to a rager at Guy Fieri’s house, Chicken Nugget would stay home to alphabetize his socks by fiber content.

He is breaded in bewilderment, almost all the time. He blurts out, “you’re my best everything!” to cats he has just met, and everyone knows there’s nothing cool about being that warm.

Except at Tabby’s Place.

Tabby’s Place is a kind of container for all the kids who assumed they were uncool. We have notches in our ears and cowlicks in our whiskers. We are diabetic and FIV+ and flatulent and awkward. We hide and trust and blurt and forgive. We are feline and human and bewildered almost all the time.

But in the punch bowl called Tabby’s Place, every bubble shines.

We pour the usual rules of “cool” down the drain. “Cool” is the person with important things to do, who decides the most important thing is to lay on the floor with one scared cat. “Cool” is the cat who loves again after all was lost. “Cool” is the flotilla of felines so mutually smitten, you cannot tell where one tabby ends and the next begins.

“Cool” is the senior who forgets the painful past and presses on into the nearest forehead. “Cool” is the unsung saints mending the world in the Tabby’s Place laundry room this very minute, folding towels so someone will be warm.

“Cool” is all the hours you could have spent at the trampoline park or running errands, poured out instead in “I love yous” without words.

“Cool” is the cat with the white chip on his arm, and the courage of nine hundred knights.

Chicken Nugget lives with diabetes. There are days when his blood glucose bungee jumps into the basement, and days when it scrambles to the ceiling. Chicken Nugget does not rage or complain.

Chicken Nugget does not stop taking care of his friends. However he is feeling, he feels the need to huggle them.

Yes, the word is “huggle.” Because Chicken Nugget is just that cool. It is good to snuggle. It is good to huddle up. It is cooler than James Bond to huggle.

To huggle is to tell someone that they are the bestest. To huggle is to hurl all your cards on the table, regardless of the risk. To huggle is to remind the ragamuffins that they are not alone. To huggle is to heal the world, even if you are a little wounded yourself.

I suppose you could half-huggle. You could skritch a cat’s neck while peeking at your watch. You could listen to your friend’s fears while checking your phone under the table.

But Chicken Nugget does not believe in surface huggling. Chicken Nugget huggles all the way down to his interstitial fluid.

That also happens to be where his Freestyle snorkels.

What’s that? You did not know that Chicken Nugget freestyles? Well, would you expect any less from the coolest cat in the room?

Freestyling, like love, is not for the sleek and shallow.

In hip-hop, “freestyling” is improvising a song on the spot, making fire and poetry from the raw materials of the moment. Chicken Nugget, performing under the name C-Nuggs, is plenty cool for this challenging art.

He can take one look at a new arrival and drop beats that can calm their heart rate. I heard him sing to Jed, “Jed’s the bread that fills the shed, with butter on top that just don’t stop.”

In diabetes, “Freestyling” is wearing a little white button on your skin, so a tiny needle can get down with your glucose. Only the coolest cats can pull off this fashion, which involves shaving a suave crop circle into their fur.

The needle speaks to a “sensor,” which spills the beans about the cat’s blood glucose. We are able to respond to sugary swoops faster, with less invasive testing, which you might say is pretty cool.

Or, maybe we should retire the word entirely.

Funny term, really, isn’t it? I’ve never met anyone cool who wasn’t made of warmth. I’ve never met anyone cooler than Chicken Nugget.

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