Permit me to blow your mind: when Tabby’s Place began, squeezable chicken had not yet been invented.
No tube-tuna.
Not even one drop of gelatinous turkey.
But every era is saved by beauty. Just as Michelangelo glimpsed the Pieta within the marble, some hero saw possibility. Sitting at the breakfast table, clasping a Go-Gurt, this unsung legend was ravished by revelation.
“Cats deserve squeezable meat.”
And lo, the world was changed.
We forget how quickly life’s architecture can alter. I believe we are each rescued by hundreds of epiphanies a day. We have no idea.
But Mr. Peanut has all the ideas.
This is fortunate, since Mr. Peanut does not have:
- A monocle
- A top hat
- The ability to express his own bladder
- The “normal” use of his hind legs
- The “normal” level of concern about being “normal”
There is little that is normal about our nobleman. He has eyes large enough for all the planets to curl up and take a nap inside. He has a sense of humor, and a sense of rhythm that shimmies every stripe independently. He loves, despite evidence that love is daft and dangerous.
He loves life, despite the fact that it is slippery business.
“Normal” rivals “hopeless” in the Big Book Of Words We Think Are Stupid at Tabby’s Place.
But “normal” once stood like a bouncer between Mr. Peanut and the future. His Special Needs were too nutty. His daily care stuck to the roof of mercy’s mouth.
Neither his innocence, his eminence, nor his connections with The Monopoly Guy could save Mr. Peanut. The party was over. The euthanasia needle was drawn.
The world was about to change.
Epiphanies are as wiggly as jelly, and miracles rarely sign their names on their masterpieces.
We can’t pull apart the sandwich of serendipities that saved Mr. Peanut in that final hour. We can only say that it tastes like childhood.
It tastes like a whole handful of peanut M&M’s. It tastes like the look in your prim aunt’s eyes when she catches you eating a whole handful of peanut M&M’s…and proceeds to do the same, giggling.
One moment, Mr. Peanut was a cat out of calendar pages.
The next, he was newborn in the midst of middle age.
This is not the “normal” order of things. The world says that some needs are just too sticky. Some cats (feline and otherwise) are inconvenience incarnate. Love is grand, within limits. Kindness is cool, but start talking about bladders, and, well, “check, please!”
But Mr. Peanut does not wear a corrective lens.
Tabby’s Place does not need to squint.
Love is unshelled and unconditional. Love is a revelation that comes fresh every morning.
There has never been a time before love, but it needs to remake the world daily.
Hey, world: permit Tabby’s Place to blow your mind. Stay awhile, and we’ll even make you a sandwich. You have much to learn, world.
Love saved Mr. Peanut, but he’s saving love from the lie of “limits.”
In a world where everything can change quickly, we tip our top hats to the light that never leaves.
Dear boy, you are safe in the architecture of affection. Forever.
Photos all courtesy of our remarkable, radiant Rey, Mr. Peanut’s foster parent … who has now become Mr. Peanut’s adoptive parent. That’s right: Mr. Peanut is now Valerie‘s brother. Please commence the wild rumpus. There are heroes and legends among us. I am forever in awe of you, Rey.