Every cat is a detective.
This is why their tails curl into question marks when they are glad to see you: Are you excited about my existence? Will you prove it with poultry?
But no two cats are on the same case.
And only one is qualified to catch the elusive “indeed.”
Some cats investigate issues of national security, such as the strategic reserve of ping pong balls. Others ponder metaphysical matters, like where the wild corn dogs grow.
But in the quiet study of Tabby’s Place, Investigator Indie seeks deeper answers.
Indie understands if he is underestimated. Bashful and paunchy, his vibes are more “scalloped potatoes” than “Sherlock Holmes.” He is the color of sturdy bread, the kind with flaxseed and extra riboflavin.
He believes in elastic-waist pants, and reading the instruction manual before starting anything. If he were going to take you to Great Adventure, he would print the directions in 48-point font, because he does not trust GPS.
But he is not going to take you to Great Adventure, because he is having a good enough adventure right here, thank you very much.
And he hopes you will join him.
You are safe with this sleuth, though his methods may be unconventional. Indie is an experienced investigator.
Before tackling Tabby’s Place, he was assigned a decade-long case on the universe’s greatest mystery. I do not mean antimatter, the quark, or the maximum velocity of spray cheese. I do not even mean the weight, in tons, of Berry‘s ego, or the number of comets that came together to create Luna.
I mean the essence of unconditional love.
Indie understands there are many ingredients to this bread that feeds the universe. Without unconditional love, none of us would be here at all — not the cats, not the corn dogs, and certainly not us hapless human beings with our roller-coaster hearts.
Some lives may get loaves, and some may gather crumbs, but we have all been sustained by the stuff since the day we arrived.
Indie has never known a day without unconditional love, which makes him something of an expert.
For most of his life, unconditional love was the answer to a question he never had to ask. Indie’s Mom adored him with no asterisk. He could not lose what he never had to earn. Her love was not mysterious.
As they aged together, their quiet home was the scene of life’s one good adventure. Their bond was so limitless, their “little” life contained the cosmos.
Little did they know what love would ask of them both.
When Indie’s Mom became unable to care for him, love meant the “goodbye” that broke her heart to save his life. She arranged for Indie to come to Tabby’s Place.
The moment a cat arrives here, the case is closed on fear. You may be old, anxious, or the self-declared archnemesis of all humans, and we will adore you as though you are the answer to our lifelong question.
And if you are a dadly brown tabby with eyes full of anguish, we will announce your awesomeness until you believe us.
Which may take some time.
The thing about unconditional love is that it isn’t one thing. This mystery can muddle even such a great mind as Indie’s.
Early clues confused him. He could not ignore the evidence of giblets, niblets, and chin skritches. But it could all be a red herring, because we were not his Mom. If this was love, it had different eyebrows, and footsteps, and lilts to its voice. Also, herring was not on the menu, a serious concern.
Indie hid and huddled. His questions were many.
What if all our affection was leading up to an inquisition? Was he really safe? A cat can’t be sure until he’s sure, and that timeline is in his paws alone.
Given Indie’s age and angst, we nestled him in a foster home with one of our gentlest volunteers, a woman both great and good. She had no agenda but Indie’s peace, and no illusions of urgency. She simply showed up daily, doting on the cat who quivered like a ball of dough.
It was up to Indie to accept her answer, or not.
Unconditional love is as vulnerable as a kitten. It can’t force belief from the beloved. It can’t tug trust by the tail. All it can do is spend itself completely, and then do the same tomorrow.
All it can do is say “yes,” over and over.
In the end, it has only one ingredient: the infinite “indeed.”
There was no great break in Indie’s case, no sudden aha. Just like his Mom, his foster mom simply baked the basic bread of total acceptance, day by day by day. She fed his broken heart. Indie overheard himself chirp at her arrival, and then purr. He caught himself in the act of being happy again.
He realized the good adventure was not over.
Now he rests in the nest of the great “indeed.”
Will Indie be safe and treasured for all of his days? Indeed. Is this promise sturdy enough to hold his many years and moods, even if his needs should grow as big as the moon? Indeed. Will mercy have many faces, many of them mysterious? Indeed.
Is it impossible for him to lose love? Indeed.
Do we yearn for Indie to be adopted? It goes without saying.
But will this brave, stoic, splendid, good, great cat be cherished forever, come whatever?
Indie is tucked safe inside the answer.
Indeed.