Going strictly by his name, Braveheart sometimes appears to miss the mark.
But if we go strictly by names, we will miss most of what matters.
Though he looks more like a little otter than a scholar, Braveheart has a Ph.D. in bravery. He knows all about the slippery rocks of survival. He found no haven in Baltimore’s harbor.
If there was a ship with his name on it, perhaps it had passed him by.
When he could not see a path through the sea of tears, he made the way by walking. The blind, FeLV+ cat would not dissolve in self-pity. He would not give up on trying to follow people through their apartment doors.
He would not let his heart be broken, no matter how many times he heard the deadbolt click.
He would still not be here if he were not brave. He was stoic, and steely, and hard as pewter.
But then, his ship came in after all. It just happened to look like a sedan, with two staff members beaming brighter than the headlights. It carried him up the coast to Tabby’s Place.
All at once, the old bravery was irrelevant.
There is a certain strength made from sorrow. It can make you look tough when you feel like a wet rodent.
But that kind of courage is a temporary flotation device, meant for short-term, emergency use. When you land on love’s shore, you can leave this jetsam behind.
At Tabby’s Place, Braveheart became safe enough for real courage: a bare, open heart.
If the bravery of the street looked like armor, the courage of Suite G looks like fur.
At first, Braveheart lay soft and honest in lidded boxes and litter pans, trembling at our touch. Now that he didn’t need to save his own life every day, he could be meek and bashful. He had nothing to prove and nothing to fear.
He looked frightened, but there was valor in the trembling tidepools of his eyes.
And soon, a new strength surfaced.
A terrified cat will eat and drink, but not play. You must feel very secure to spill the secret that you are silly. Happiness is not for the half-hearted.
But like dolphins surrounding a life raft, Braveheart’s roommates lifted him up. Soon he was laughing, leaping, and letting loose with the likes of Polka and Kitty Purry. He was never so valiant as the day he learned to frolic.
There is so much yet to learn.
In a home he cannot lose, with a love he need not earn, our honest little otter can take his time. Time is a dialect of love, and Tabby’s Place is fluent. Even when Braveheart hides, he shows the mettle that matters.
Volunteers flutter around him like seabirds, close enough to whisper sweet breezes and deliver treats. They cackle if you call them courageous, but what could be braver than patience? They are Braveheart’s first mates, committed to their little captain. He already knows he can trust them.
Their love knot will hold, on the days he is a snuggle-muffin and the days he is in his timid place.
So please don’t judge Braveheart if he looks a little nervous from time to time.
Once you are loved, you are free to feel, right in front of your friends. It is more courageous to be soft than stoic.
And at Tabby’s Place, a meek cat inherits our whole world. Braveheart, you have exactly the right name.