No folk singer ever pined for New Jersey as “almost heaven.”
But, some country roads lead to traffic circles and the Turnpike.
Take it from Dr. Tom, West Virginia’s marmalade mountaineer.
When the sunshine hits his shoulders at just the right angle, our strawberry blonde stray bears a certain resemblance to John Denver.
But while the singer waxed poetic for the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah River, our whiskered West Virginian dreamed of the great indoors. When you are hungry, lonely, and apparently hold a doctorate that is not being used to your fullest potential, your prayer is simple: “take me home.”
Dr. Tom yearned for the place he belonged.
Meanwhile, in the same mountains, a cat with a full name believed it was not too late for a full life.
Between his raggedy, shaggedy fur and an old scar on his salt-and-pepper head, Bill Wilkins looked older than the trees. The hills and hollers had not been kind to the stray. Yet somehow, there were no blues in his bluegrass.
As long as he held onto hope, he could stay younger than the mountains…though, sometimes he had to admit, he was getting tired.
They were just two FIV+ stray cats, far from the trail and all out of granola bars.
But love was about to fill up their senses.
They were coming to that misty, dreamlike, storybook paradise: New Jersey.
Almost heaven? Well, that depends who you ask.
If you ask Dr. Tom and Bill Wilkins’ rescuers, New Jersey is sweeter than cakes on the griddle. West Virginia’s warmest wrapped the country boys in their arms. They gave the cats names, dignity, and the first hint that “home” doesn’t only exist in songs.
They advocated for the elderly optimist and the ginger rambler. And, with the perseverance of mountains, they found a place two FIV+ cats could finally, fully belong.
Tabby’s Place, in central New Jersey.
We realize we are no West Virginia. We are, at best, Bruce Springsteen’s Brigadoon. We are Shangri-La a little south of Secaucus, the Narnia that New Yorkers are embarrassed about.
That is because are our own kind of cool, which is warm. Also weird.
And wonderstruck over two wandering West Virginians.
But if New Jersey is heaven’s best kept secret, Tabby’s Place spills the beans. Over country roads, toll bridges and the Atlantic, we welcome cats whose unanswered prayer is, “take me home.” What we lack in mountains and mystery, we make up for in misfits made into family.
The best seats at our table belong to strays, scalawags, seniors, smidgens, and the forgotten, frazzled and, yes, FIV+.
We might not be Dr. Tom and Bill Wilkins’ first state, but we will do our best to be their state of grace.
The country boys’ New Jersification is underway. As befits a cat with his credentials, Dr. Tom prescribed himself squeeze-treats (quantity: “more,” refills: infinity). He can’t find his diploma to hang on the wall of Suite D, but he does have the best intake photo in the history of Tabby’s Place. He is a knee-slappin’ banjo on four legs, all cheddar grits and charm.
Meanwhile, Mr. Wilkins melts into melody the moment he meets your eyes. The old tom named Bill traveled far to hear his name sung softly. He is gentler than his traveling companion, a soft biscuit just soaking up the gravy of being wanted for the first time. When one of our vets saw that scar searing Bill’s scalp, she whispered, “I will never let anyone hurt you again,” and Bill’s big heart overflowed its banks.
He gets the feelin’ that he should have been here yesterday.
But, although they may never write a song about us, Tabby’s Place — in New Jersey, of all places — is the place where today is the day.
It is not too late to come home to the place where you belong.
No road is too rugged to keep you from our love.
And although the kindest thing you can say about our pies is that they’re “almost pizza,” it might be almost heaven anyway.
Update: Tom has just become a family doctor. That’s right: our marmalade medic is getting adopted! Bill Wilkins offered to pay the adoption fee. To put it gracefully, Tom and Bill did not enjoy one another’s company. If you ask Bill what he thought of Tom, he will just say, “bless his heart.” But if you ask us, we have a feeling Tom will find his own country roads (forever) home soon.
On a bittersweet note, Dr. Tom was set to go home with fellow Suite D sweetie Jimmy, with whom he’d become best friends. But our sweet Jimmy unexpectedly passed away last week, and we are all still in tears. Join us to remember him in a “Forever Loved” post this Friday … and please keep Dr. Tom and his new family close to your hearts.