There are mysteries Tabby’s Place is equipped to solve.
Our Vet Team heals the wounded and unravels rare diseases.
Our Behavior Team negotiates peace between 150 infallible beings who each aspire to world domination.
The sleuths in our kitchen crack open cans and crack the case of who favors which flavors. (Picture 150 infallible kindergarteners who each want a different Lunchable.)
But … we are all stumped by one great Mysterio.
On the surface, he would seem to be a cat with no secrets. Mysterio’s face is as hopeful as a diary, “accidentally” left open so you will see the page that says, “I’m in love!”
“In love” is Mysterio’s precise location. There is nothing stealth about his coordinates. Love is his latitude and longitude. Since love is large, it helps that Mysterio’s latitude and longitude have the approximate surface area of Europe.
It is hard to hide when your paws are measured in acres, not inches. Mysterio could harbor clues (and fugitives, and the entire population of New Jersey) in his cantaloupe cheeks, if he could keep his mouth shut.
He cannot.
When you are this deep in love, the only way you can breathe is to blurt your affection in all directions.
There are no classified files behind those smitten eyes. Were you unaware that you are sweeter than frosting and smarter than Sherlock Holmes? Mysterio’s mush will inform you. Had no one let you in on the data proving you are cooler than Mick Jagger and cuter than a red panda in overalls? Mysterio’s undulating belly and unlimited adoration will deliver the news. Were you not apprised that you are as perfect as a potato, even if you resemble one?
Mysterio is one long-tailed tell-all.
He is equally open about his own dossier, though he knows the evidence could be used against him. Mysterio is not ashamed that he lives with feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV). FIV+ cats live as old as Rolling Stones (adjusting for species) and find forever homes faster than Miss Marple finds clues.
“Unadoptable?” That’s just a red herring. Mysterio approves of herring, but only when served with mayonnaise. And when your paws are as big as Mysterio’s, your handwriting is a little sloppy, so “FIV” looks like “LUV.”
Actually, it all comes out looking like “LUV.” And Mysterio believes in letting it all out.
But the grandest mysteries are always hiding in plain sight.
Between Mysterio’s toes, you will find an enigma that no one can unravel.
Although those paws are as wide as pickleball paddles, they are empty.
Although those meaty hands could hold the moon, they weren’t even given one measly meteor.
And although Mysterio is obviously the best candidate to mend the world, he has not been handed the opportunity.
How can this be?
If Mysterio were in charge, every living creature would know their worth. It would be the greatest heist in history. One “ordinary” FIV+ tabby cat would spin the padlocks on every guarded heart. The humblest face would be shnoogled and head-bonked, pimples and all. The vaults of value would fly open, and every cat, human, and extraterrestrial would glimpse the gold of their own goodness.
It is not a coincidence that Mysterio’s eyes are the color of twenty-four karat infatuation.
Given the chance, he would give us all the “big reveal” from the last page of the best novel: there is love enough for cats with advanced needs, and people with advanced grief, and everyone who ever tried to hide.
But Mysterio’s paws are empty.
There is only one explanation.
He is waiting for the hands that will hold him forever.*
He is as open as the secret that love is worth the wait.
And when Mysterio gets adopted, one case will be closed, but one adventure will begin at last.
We’re all in good paws.
*Update: Case solved. Mysterio’s magnificent adopters turned themselves in, and our sweetest sleuth is savoring life in his forever home today.