There was no time. Not a smidge.
There were only twelve smidgens, and numerous adults.
When there is no time, everyone feels like a smidgen.
When twelve kittens and their miscellaneous mothers, apparent uncles, and probable pappies are getting evicted, everything hangs on one small, strong word.
“Yes.”
It is little enough to fit in your hand, like a diamond, like a kitten.
Yes, we would take the twelve. We could not bear the thought of their round faces on the roadside, little peanut paws stumbling rocky ground.
Yes, we were startled. It was an ordinary Thursday, after all. We had no warning that we would have twelve kittens cheeping and peeping in our arms before lunch. Kittens usually come in threes and fours. Even one kitten is a full-time job. Twelve is a tall order.
Yes, we would embrace twelve out of twelve. Twelve is a good number. Donuts and disciples come by the dozen. A year on Earth is twelve months strong. The human heart beats inside twelve pairs of ribs. The human heart is here for the purpose of saying “yes.”
Yes, we would take the entourage, too. Twelve kittens were kneading the soft bellies of three mothers. Four fellow travelers flashed a family resemblance. The details were of little consequence. The smidgens of all sizes were of colossal consequence. The “yes” was a group hug with no gap.
Yes, the work would be wild. “Yeses” filled the air as ordinary people became instant parents. Their living rooms would become nursery schools. Sleep would become a nice hypothetical idea. They moved the furniture of an ordinary Thursday to make way for bumper beds, baby scales, laughter, and tears.
No, there is no such thing as an ordinary Thursday, an ordinary person, or an ordinary kitten.
Our sanctuary may be called “Tabby’s Place,” but love just calls us “Yes.” Love calls, sometimes twelve times in rapid succession. Love calls, with complete confidence in the answer. Love calls, and we call you.
And you rise up.
And you feed twelve cheeping, peeping infants, just as truly as if they were in your hands.
Your ten warm fingers wrap around twelve kittens. You hold Mercy, the toasted marshmallow. You stroke the forehead of Robby, who looks like a dandelion ready for wishes. You reassure Dana, whose heart beats like a hummingbird … then calms in your palm.
You cherish the kittens, twelve out of twelve, and so they live.
They live to climb their playpens like fun-sized King Kongs. They live to forget having ever been afraid. They live to slosh through their wet food, roll in their litter as though breading themselves into Kitten Parmigiana, then settle in for a nap on their foster mama’s shoulder. They live to make messes and miracles and the most of every hour.
The live to learn that love’s banquet is always open, usually rowdy, and never complete until all the kittens are cherished.
But the Darling Dozen are only the beginning of the deluge.
The sea of smidgens will rise with the spring temperatures, and love will call again.
So we are calling you, with complete confidence in the answer. (Love told us all about you, and love has never lied.)
Please give to our Cherish the Kittens Fund Drive before May 1st. If we think our hands are full now, kitten season has just begun.
Your donation is a time machine. When the next baby arrives, there will be no time. Your gift today will sprint ahead to tomorrow. Your kitten (and the one you save is truly your kitten) will live. Your love will translate into “yes.”
Where there is love, even smidgens feel strong.
There are no ordinary kittens. They are in your hands.
There are no ordinary people. Is that a “yes?”