You may have heard the expression, “it’s my white whale.”
A white whale is a ludicrous goal that you keep chasing even though it may be the end of you.
A white whale is an obsession that threatens to eat you alive.
We have no white whales at Tabby’s Place. We have a black-and-white whale.
With apologies to Herman Melville, we have no interest in reenacting Moby Dick around here. Captain Ahab may have gone down with his ship, but we’d much rather shimmy up the cat ramp.
It sounds noble to die for a cause, but living takes real courage. The guy with the white whale was only as big as his ego.
Meanwhile, the black-and-white whale is becoming as big as a baby.
Beluga brushed off “baby talk” like barnacles when she first arrived. She is as round as the moon that pulls the tides, and she drew our helpless hearts in deeply.
But the great bi-color cookie was not sure she could trust anything sweet. Beluga came from a desperate cat colony nearly the size of the Senate. She had felt the harpoons of hunger.
She had never been anybody’s baby. But she was brave enough to listen for a lullaby.
In the sea, gentle giants communicate via “whale songs.” These mystic tones are hopeful and haunting all at once. Whales reassure one another, confirm they are not alone in the vast expanse, and ask each other to pick up some BBQ plankton on the way home.
Even a twenty-ton mammal can feel like a lost child at the mall. The sound of a friend is courage and a cradle all at once.
So Beluga counted on her choir.
Like smitten swabbies in scrunchies and sweatshirts, we attempted to harmonize. I can neither confirm nor deny that multiple staff and volunteers performed awful, earnest renditions of Raffi’s “Baby Beluga” for our bewildered sea sprite. This had the effect of causing Beluga to hide deeper in her bayou of blankets, and also to consider calling the police.
Beluga was not quite ready to be our baby.
But at Tabby’s Place, we are in the business of love, not obsession.
Love takes time. Love lives far across the sea from ego and expectations. Love listens.
And for one black-and-white whale, love knew every chorus of peace.
In the safe seabed of her fellow colony survivors, Beluga heard her name. Singing arias with Aluminum or making melody with Georgia, the worried girl found solid ground beneath her feet.
There was a rhythm to this new life at Tabby’s Place.
Meals arrived on time, and kind creatures with long legs sat nearby without asking anything. Beluga could burrow among cats as long as she needed. Love would not lash out, the way impatience might. Love would not look elsewhere if trust took time.
When Beluga staggered out of the churning waters of her colony, love only looked like cats. But day by day, moonrise by moonrise, her eyes began to adjust. Her sea-legs stopped wobbling.
And the day came when the great black-and-white whale heard her own name in a new song.
The singers didn’t have whiskers or tails, but they sounded like home. Their fingers were long and peculiar, but their hands were open. And their voices, those strange and silly voices, made Beluga feel wonderfully … young.
People can make you feel like a baby in all the wrong ways. Captain Ahab, all grabby and drooling, will leave you feeling helpless and heckled, bobbing without water wings.
But if you find a friend who loves you as you are, in light and shadow, you can be the baby who holds out hope for every eight- or eighty-year-old.
This is no impossible dream.
This is Beluga, breaching fear’s floodgates to snuggle two species.
The great black-and-white whale is our great big baby, all because she had time to grow up into love. She cuddles with no reservations and plays like a kitten. She shows us her lyrics and listens to every off-key attempt at love.
Together, we are adding to the great sea-song that knows no end.
And, don’t worry. We are still singing “Baby Beluga” (badly) with all our hearts. If only old Captain Ahab could be here to hear it.
Update: We have sung our last chorus of “Baby Beluga” … because Beluga is now known as Gouda in her forever home … which she shares … with Salami … and Hummus. There is no such thing as “too good to be true.” There are, however, videos of dreams come true: