On July 31st, fifteen cats came to Tabby’s Place from Beirut, Lebanon.
We protectively called them “the kids.” They were our kids.
But, we were mistaken if we thought the Beirut Fifteen were porcelain baby dolls.
These cats are cedars.
Cedar trees are the emblem of Lebanon. As a stoic silhouette on the national flag, the cedar represents peace and courage.
Over centuries of hope and grief, the cedars have survived, bearing witness to the people’s dignity and resilience. Innocent as children, but majestic as royals, the cedars of Lebanon are eternity’s meeting place with life.
These massive evergreens are 150 times the height of a street cat. But, Beirut’s innocents tower over despair, even if they are only ten inches tall.
At first, Phoenix seemed more “seedling” than “cedar.” He had suffered harm at the hands of humans. Of all the Beirut Fifteen, he was arrived in greatest distress, hyperventilating and haggard.
Forgiveness and trees can take decades to grow.
But within days, Phoenix rose as tall as trust. Warbling his purrs like furry anthems, he made a nest in his foster family tree, loving as though love was all he ever knew.
Tarzan, The Cat Who Climbed, said nothing of his treetop trauma. We had seen the video. We knew he had endured three days clinging to branches while a dog circled below.
But now, our orange explorer has the courage to rejoice at ground level. He is as gabby and wisecracking as a talk-show host, swinging from hug to hug like lifeline vines.
Breaking news: Tarzan has been adopted!
Sable, a chocolate-cherry cloud with a six-pound cat inside, once wandered, rootless, through the rubble. Yet her sweetness survived. She burrows and burbles in our arms, as though the greatest achievement is to be held.
Bowie, the tiny snowcap born deaf, has never heard “Let’s Dance” or “Space Oddity.” But the music of heroes echoes under his ribs, as he wriggles like giggly macaroni for his foster family’s delight.
Breaking news: Bowie has been adopted!
And what about Daisy, a celebration in calico? She trusted us even before her airline-approved crate opened, with the dust of seven time zones still spinning around her.
Daisy does not talk about the last time a door opened, back when Beirut’s best burst her free from a cardboard box. Let the past be the past. It is more urgent that we adore one another, here, now.
Antar would be entitled to bitterness. But our chubbiest kid is the pink flower on the birthday cake, a teddy bear with neither bite nor bark. If you are weary or worried, Antar is your apothecary of encouragement. The cat struck by a car is driven to dote on us, as though we are the kids around here.
(We are the kids around here.)
Apollo makes more muffins than a garrison of grandmas.
Jimmy nestles and nuzzles like he is asking us to read his favorite storybook one more time: “you know, the one about the day we came on the big silver bird and became your kids.”
Griffin gallops without looking over his shoulder, for pain was totaled in the crash with kindness.
Breaking news: Griffin has just been adopted!
A hug is Nour’s habitat, and your hoodie is her zip code. She is as lighthearted as laughter through the leaves.
Lina, love’s longhaired leader, was adopted before we could say, “slow down! We need more time with you! Our kids grow up too fast!” We know Animals Lebanon felt the same way as they sent our kids, their kids, across the sea.
Pax (pictured at top) and Kai, the wild boys, are zest and adolescence, mouthy and mirthful. Our behavior team will work on their manners without snuffing their spark.
Pax’s name means “peace,” and he means well, even when human fingers look like kibbeh. Kai is kind and kinetic and contains ten cups of cayenne, and we love every pinch and purr of him.
Xena, at first the most fearful, is the warrior princess turned wiggle worm. Sometimes, you can see in her eyes that she is surprised to love us so much, so soon.
And Nacho ponders all these things in his heart.
If one of the Beirut Fifteen towers over the rest, it is the eyeless orange tabby. Silent as the tree of life, he takes every tender touch to heart.
Nacho does not frolic like Daisy or exult like Apollo.
He is the earnest introvert.
He is soft soil for each seed of kindness.
And he is settling into his forever home as you read these words … and meeting a sister who is also a cedar.
For, two years ago, to the day, Nacho’s family adopted Polly.
Like Nacho, Polly lost her eyes in Beirut, and gained new life because of you.
They will share their “Gotcha day” for the rest of their beautiful lives.
Fifteen out of fifteen, “our kids” are growing taller than “hopeless” can reach.
Cedars breathe out oxygen without asking anything in return.
Cedars of Lebanon love without cursing the past or fearing the future.
They have come to trust us so fast, it feels like a time-lapse video of fifteen seeds towering into trees.
We are witnessing history.
The best is yet to come.