At Tabby’s Place, it is no rare thing to hear words such as “slain” and “flattened” upon someone meeting a new resident. Maybe it’s just me saying such things, but it’s a regular occurrence when magical beings like Odessa fill the suites.
Yes, those are klaxons that you’re hearing.
Bet you’re wondering why there is such a ruckus gonging on (Yes, gonging. Enough said.)
Now, Odessa is not from Texas. Nor is Odessa from Ukraine. One might wonder why a cat from Lebanon (The country, not the town in Hunterdon County, New Jersey.) has such a big name that has nothing to do with where she actually is from. Read on, friends of felines!
Somehow, this little cat is actually larger than massive land masses. Somehow, some amazing people found the tiny creamsicle. Through good works and significant efforts, Odessa landed at Tabby’s Place in September. Then, on the very last day of October, Odessa introduced herself to me.
Slain.
Flattened.
The squawk!
The swoosh!
The colors!
Everything about Odessa is breathtaking. Small, yet powerfully present, she is too sweet for air to enter lungs properly. Mature yet kittenish in cuteness, she is too adorable for hearts to maintain their rhythm. Uniquely herself, there is just something about this orange and white tabby that is reminiscent of some very special felines who, as Tabby’s Place cats, are technically her ancestors. She is their torch bearer.
Only the most brazen would dare to remind us of our beloved Honey, who was so special that only Jonathan himself could do her justice when farewell was all that was left to say. Being reminded of Honey was powerful enough alone. But, there were more echoes of others:
Fiesta, who wanted nothing more than a siesta on the lap of a friend
Sunflower, who eventually learned to love gentle skritches and reward them with purrs.
Olivia, who mostly wanted humans to keep their distance, but whom we loved without restraint and with greatest respect for her wishes.
Izma, who was adopted quickly enough to give us whiplash.
Each of them fit the archetype of an old-lady cat (Well, not 5-year-old Izma, except vocally). Each of them demanded recognition on their terms and in no uncertain terms. Odessa promises to follow in their paw prints. Odessa promises more.
At best guess, Odessa falls into the nebulous category of “adult.” Her exact years are indeterminate, but an educated guess will come from the powers that be who determine such things as best as they can. Odessa herself, though, leaves nothing to guess at. Yes, she wants attention. Yes, she is curious about the undertakings that she can see from her window view of the lobby. Yes, she prefers that Winona maintain a significant distance. And, oh, yes, yes, yes, a bit of a skritch above her tail will be met with the requisite raising of her entire hind end in happy response.
Those who came before varied in their responses to such attentions. They made their preferences known over time and according to individual relationships with other felines as well as with humans. They were each as big as a massive land mass. They each carried on the torch of those that came before. But, for now, everything is Odessa.
Those eyes!
That nose!
The squawks!
Odessa may not yet realize her full powers. We may not have her at Tabby’s Place long enough to be able to observe her in her full glory. It seems likely from the vantage of my landing place – flattened and slain, on the floor and unable to breath – that a forever family is on the nearest horizon and eager to whisk Odessa into her awaiting home. Those are the kinds of goodbyes we love best. Until it happens, Odessa will keep the torch lit. When the time comes, another will follow to carry the flame. And, when that happens, you’ll know where to find me – trying to catch my breath, on the floor, flattened yet again.