You can tell a cat is loved by his nicknames.
Any stray can be a Joseph. It is a perfectly respectable name, shared by saints and Jonas brothers.
But it takes the lilt of love to turn you into Joey Muffins.
Joe arrived at Tabby’s Place so covered in love, you could scarcely see the cat underneath.
Our vet team confirmed that he is, in fact, all love. He is unfeigned, undiluted, uninterrupted love.
He is love at the molecular level. He is love from his electrons to his ear hair. If he were a box of mini muffins, his ingredients label would read, 100% Love, No Artificial Flavors or Colors.
When you are covered in love, you cannot see the way others do. There is a medical explanation for Joe’s cloudy eyes, but there is also a better explanation. Joe sees the world through a glaze of honey. Joe perceives unfamiliar faces as immediate family he hasn’t met yet. Joe views strangers as soulmates-to-be.
Joe sees clearly, so Joe makes muffins.
When you are composed entirely of love, you have no need to compose yourself. That is a good thing, since Joe can’t. Joe sees too much to stay calm.
In the presence of people, Joe goes wild with jubilation. It does not matter if we are graceful empaths or galumphing galoots. It is irrelevant whether we come bearing treats or our hands are empty. Joe makes no distinction between Nobel laureates and gangsters.
All Joe sees is people who have not yet been completely covered in love, which means Joe has work to do, and muffins to make.
Some call it “making bread,” this rhythmic motion of a cat’s paws. Up and down, in and out, tiny toes curl and uncurl, flexing to the beat of some ancient song.
Other cats may indeed be kneading sourdough or pumpernickel. But Joe only knows how to bake what is sweet. Joe believes in compliments, reassurance, and funfetti.
Joe makes muffins.
Joe’s recipe is as simple as his trust. He learned it from the person who turned him into love. When the light is right, we can almost glimpse her face, shining in Joe’s eyes. She is the movie that plays forever behind his irises. She is the voice who cooed his first nicknames.
Her selfless love is the reason Joe and the rest of the “Long Island Nine” came to Tabby’s Place.
I wish we could have met her. In a way, we have. She has passed from love to love, yet she lives on in Joe. They were both made from one true ingredient.
And ever since his paws touched down at Tabby’s Place, Joe has been kneading us in the same direction.
We need his help.
So Joe makes muffins.
And at Tabby’s Place, where love leaves no one hungry, Joe becomes “Joey Muffins.”
I do not know who spoke the nickname first, but it spread faster than frosting. It made us all laugh, and Joe loves to laugh. It made us all happy, and Joe’s core competency is “happy.”
It also made us think of The Godfather, and Joe thinks we should run with this. The ingredients are already here. Why not Vinnie Giblets or Mickey the Meatloaf?
Why not cover everyone in nicknames, until the whole place sounds like love?
It’s a good place to start. Joe has work to do, and so do we.
Update: The muffins are on the move. You guessed it, my little biscuits: the most lovable baker has been adopted! Joe goes to his forever home tomorrow. Thank you for making this possible!