Bright winter-flower, you burst into our lives at the time of year when hope huddles underground.
You are a tropical print in a world turned grey.
You teach us to make jam from bitter berries.
You are Zuzu, the toast of Tabby’s Place.
You remind us that the artist of all animals used the same palette for calico cats and Monarch butterflies.
You have no tail, much less wings. But you are a sky-dancer even with four feet on the ground. Your laughing eyes lift us along for the ride.
Zuzu, you have borne bewildering days. The details swirl together like your paisley patches. In a moment of curiosity, you ate some strange and stretchy things. You did not know that hair elastics wreak havoc inside a cat. Pain put you in knots you could not untie alone.
But you were not alone, any more than a butterfly who loses her way. A gentle jet stream of merciful people and midwinter miracles saved you. Your migration was right on time.
For a cat fresh from crisis, you take yourself lightly. There are giggles at the ends of your whiskers, and purrs coming out of your pores.
You tell everyone what you did, as though it is hilarious: I ate hair ties! Review: 0/10! Next time, I will order calamari!
Then, you tell everyone what you are going to do for your next act: I am going to gaze into your eyes until you see how pretty you look reflected in my pupils! I am going to melt in your direction with the sweetness of one million marshmallows! I am going to marvel at you like a murmuration!
And your most radical resolution of all: I, Zuzu, am going to be happy!
You are happy, here in winter, the season as dry as burnt toast.
You are happy, with your surgical collar, which looks like a piece of toast, even though it did not come with sardines.
You are happy to be here, with people who kiss you and promise that spring follows winter, joy follows sorrow, and goodness and mercy follow colorful cats of all species.
You trust these patient people in their ponytails and patchwork sweaters, because they, too, know what it means to be healing.
They know what it means to be hungry animals.
They know what it means to try things that don’t work out quite right.
And they — we — need to know what you know, Zuzu.
For a human is neither cat nor butterfly, but an earthbound child who forgets to look up.
Yet the only way to see you is to raise our gaze.
You are fearless, airborne with the innocence of those who have felt life’s heaviness but choose the light anyway.
Zuzu, the paperwork says that we are the rescuers around here, but the truth is more colorful.
We thank you for choosing us.
We toast you for choosing joy.
We love you for all that you are, and all that you see from great heights.
Ecstatic update: As you read these words, Zuzu is healed and blissful, in the arms of her devoted, adoring, beautiful family. Our hearts are soaring!