When you decide to adopt a cat, several questions are in order.

“How am I so fortunate as to live in a world containing cats?”

“How can I be worthy of a creature of infinite splendor?”

And, most importantly, “why not … ?”

Why not Bello?

Bello is a tabby of majesty and slapstick. He is a mahogany desk covered in rubber duckies. He is a velvet robe owned by Louis XIV, with jelly beans in the pockets. When he runs, his long hair laughs out loud in all directions, as though he is wearing a suede fringe jacket that just told itself a joke.

But Bello does not spend much time running.

Bello does not run at lunchtime, because the Oompa Loompas who bring the salmon will deposit it directly under his chin. Bello does not run when the mastermind named Hips decides to pop him on the noggin, because Hips’s arm will eventually get tired.

Bello does not even run to your lap, because he trusts in a mysterious gravitational force that will draw him there, without his having to get up and burn plural calories. (So far, this has proven 100% accurate.)

Running is inferior to being. “Being” is Bello’s Olympic event. Bello can expand to fill the entire cubby of a cat tree, as though he were the filling of a carpeted Combo. Bello is optimistic that he can continue to expand indefinitely, like the universe.

Bello is even more optimistic that he can coach you in “Being.” You and Bello are a better pair than crackers and cheese. You and Bello could share the sweetest, silliest years of your lives together, all melty and majestic in each other’s arms.

Why not Bello?

For that matter, why not Ruchi?

Ruchi is the color of your favorite hoodie, the soft one you put on when the rain won’t quit, or the bad news won’t quit, and you are one bummer away from quitting everything.

Ruchi lives in a sanctuary, but Ruchi gives shelter. Whatever you are going through, Ruchi can relate. One eye squints in permanent empathy, as though he is wincing for everything that ever brought you pain. Both ears are open to everything you say, even if you cannot say a word.

Every cat cares, but Ruchi is kindness’s king. Ruchi tutors saints and angels. Rumor has it Ruchi may even be a bodhisattva, the soul who could waltz into paradise anytime, but refuses to do so until all the imps and urchins can come with him.

But Ruchi doesn’t believe anyone is an imp or an urchin. (He has never met Hips, but that is a technicality.) Ruchi believes the surliest curmudgeon is just a wrinkled child who needs a grey cat in their lap. Ruchi believes everyone came from love and returns to love. Ruchi is determined to increase the sum total of love in the universe. Ruchi will start with you.

Why not Ruchi?

And while we’re at it, why not Lily?

We may never know how we got so blessed as to live in a world that contains cats. But we know one cat who contains the world.

Lily may look like a humble hazelnut. She is petite and unpretentious, stippled with cinnamon and nutmeg. Yet within one round torbie, you will find grace without end. Lily lets every cat into her cubby, from the aerobic Betty to cynical Ms. Frizzle.

Lily has learned the long game of love, and she intends for everyone to win. Rescued by an actual angel with a Brooklyn accent, she came to Tabby’s Place on the wings of human goodness. She proceeded to hide in the ceiling tube for six months.

That was the exact gestation for courage.

Now, Lily welcomes chin skritches and conversation. She is proof that miracles take as long as they take. She is the flower that knows its time. She is the crystal that was right there inside the rock. She is patience painted in the colors of a fun-size candy bar. She is the kind of fun that gets sweeter with time.

Why not Lily?

At last, why not Lily’s bestie, Betty?

There is no need to beat around the bush. Betty is a genius. Betty has degrees from Princeton, Yale, and Starfleet Academy. They asked Betty to give the Commencement address at Oxford, but she had a prior engagement playing with lint. Betty is not the type to cancel an obligation if something better comes along.

Betty will come to your 44th birthday party, even if Viggo Mortensen invites her to Paris, which he might. Betty will not stop playing with you, even if the United Nations calls requesting her counsel, which would not be the first time.

Most importantly, Betty will not stop playing, no matter what cancer may chant from the sidelines. There is no honor on the sidelines. It takes no courage to cuss and cower. So you will always find our lithe genius in the arena.

She is the first cat to race to your side and the last to let you leave her suite. She awards you honorary doctorates in Utterly Adored for as long as you will stay. She would prefer that you stay forever, but she is smart enough to savor her solo hours.

She glows like a gardenia in her solarium. If she has been given this day, it is a great day. She is going to unwrap every present in the box. There may be a hug. There may be an audience with the Queen of Denmark. There may be some cool lint. Hopefully, there will be you. Betty knows that you are the best, because Betty is a genius.

Why not Betty?

Is it because they are seniors? Bello, Ruchi, Lily, and Betty are all north of ten years old. They are not kittens you can hold in one hand. (In the case of Bello, it may take eight or ten hands. Recruit a few friends.) They are marbled with time and a few medical issues.

They are not too old to still want to be someone’s baby. They have histories and memories. They are more themselves than they have ever been before. They have so much to give.

Why not an elderly cat?

It’s a good question.

And today, all of our elderly cats are listening carefully. It’s our annual Remember the Seniors Fund Drive, and your donation will be doubled for our geriatric gentlecats. Please give generously. Love is the answer.

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