We know so many things that July could not have predicted.
We now love faces that June never saw coming.
So, what shall we do with all this wisdom?
Do you ever stop to marvel at the measure of a month? Most of the time, we are too breathless, tumbling down tomorrow’s to-do list or chasing bouncy balls of kibble into next week.
But cats are prodigies of presence. They are focused only on the can that needs to be opened now.
At Tabby’s Place, we have 140 pro bono philosophers happy to coax us back to the moment. (The greatest minds of our generation are ukulele-sized meatball enthusiasts whose self-image is some combination of “apex predator” and “Jack Black.”)
So, let us take a moment to be awestruck at August.
This time last month, we did not know that fifteen cats from five thousand miles away would melt us into hummus. The Beirut Fifteen trusted us before we could earn it.
With trauma and trembling and the TSA in their past, they embraced today as though every tomorrow was already wonderful. Now we get to prove them right.
This time last month, we did not know that the licorice twister called Ilya would be swept into a cyclone of bliss. It is not every day that a paraplegic kitten is adopted, even if he is a dancing meteor disguised as a dollop-sized dude.
Yet here we are, tearful as taillights ride off with one more “impossible” adoption.
But there were tearful secrets it’s best we didn’t know in advance.
This time in July, we didn’t know that Dolly Parton, love’s butterfly, would leave us with tears on our rhinestones and a quest to carry forward her kindness.
This time in July, we did not know that lettuce would be the villain of the summer. Good thing we have 140 apex predators here to protect us.
This time in July, we did not know that Chester would not be able to come with us into September.
If you told us in advance, we would not have had the strength. But strength comes in the hour it is needed, not one breath before. When goodbye came, the staff sat together on the floor, leaning into each other.
Now we lean into a future where Chester’s courage becomes our calling. We will see him in September, past the horizon of sight.
What more will we see in September, kittens? What cats will cannonball into our lives and become our soulmates? What quiet resurrections and rowdy ripsnorters will unfurl as autumn arrives?
How rich are we to greet them all together?
But first, a litany of awe-ful August:
Arrived: Hazel, Ace, Stevie Nicks, Junebug, Mira, Babs, Mr. Brown, Wilhelmina, Pixie, Dolly
Adopted: Obi, Annelle, Sage, Cypress, Pine, Mayhem, Tulip, Maizey, Parsley, Tassel, Kernel, Ilya, Gritito, Utah, Wyoming, Elphaba, Rhombus, Lina, Rocky, Griffin, Nier, Nacho, Trent, Tarzan, Tommy, Kip, Scott, Apollo, Karl
Returned: No one!
Promoted to Jonathan’s Office: Cassandra
Promoted to Heaven: Chester, Kainé (in foster with her angel, Karina)
Welcome, September, with all your golden mysteries.
You will introduce us to cats we will not know how we ever lived without.
You will induct us into stories where we did not expect to find our own names.
You will invite us to be the people we are becoming, moment by moment.
Let’s get to cracking open those cans. And please donate to the Linda Fund while you’re at it.
And here, right on time, is the greatest song of all time. You should know that 140/140 Tabby’s Place cats agree with me that this is the greatest song of all time. It is okay if you do not agree that this is the greatest song of all time. You are allowed to be wrong.