We know a guy whose heart is so much bigger than his body, love sticks out his ears.
If given the choice between a fifty-cheese taco and one head-bonk from Taco, he would choose the latter.
And when he gets a little scared, he doesn’t chicken out. He chickens in.
Of course I’m talking about Boq, the black cat who shares his name with both Oz’s Tin Man and the sound that poultry makes when it is judging you. (If you have ever heard a chicken say “boq, boq, boq,” you know this translates to, “you’re about as impressive as an earthworm in overalls.”)
But Boq is not judging you, and he certainly doesn’t need a wizard’s help. Our meekest little molasses cookie is all heart.
Feline leukemia virus (FeLV) tossed Boq into our arms like a baby chick in a tornado. From Oz to Ohio, FeLV strikes fear in many hearts. Boq and siblings Elphaba and Fiyero were in trouble.
But FeLV+ cats can live full and healthy lives, and Tabby’s Place welcomes them with fanfare. When we learned of three young cats as wide-eyed as the Tin Man, Scarecrow, and Cowardly Lion without their Dorothy, we were thrilled to embrace them in our Quinn’s Corner expansion.
Quinn’s Corner is our exuberant “Emerald City” for these munchkins. It’s exactly like the Emerald City, except that it’s bright orange. And extremely rural (as in, more chickens per square foot than people). And most of our “munchkins” are the size of Clydesdales.
Right away, we could tell that Boq was a horse of a different color. He was only timid and trembly because his heart was so tender.
When Boq turns his tiny face to you, golden eyes glowing all the way to the back rooms of your soul, it is as though you have just been engulfed in innocence. He is overwhelmed to share this moment in history with such a splendid creature as yourself. He is overwhelmed that you would choose to love him, just one little cat in a clanging, jangling world.
He is overwhelmed to feel your fingers on his cheek.
He is realized to wake up every morning from the dream that was telling the truth all along.
He is overwhelmed by the red-and-white dishes of fishes and the treats in the palm of your hand.
He is overwhelmed to realize he is in the palm of Love’s hand, the one that drops no one.
He is overwhelmed, because it is overwhelming. (We feel it too, but we are chickens. We should all be glowing into each other’s souls all the time, but we get scared that love is too good to be true and end up clucking at each other instead.)
Yet of all the wonders and splendors that beset Boq, there is none so overwhelming as the glory of Taco.
Taco, of course, is Boq’s roommate, the shy-eyed fiesta in a soft shell. When Boq, Elphaba, and Fiyero moved into Taco’s suite, our anxious little enchilada was just starting to savor many flavors of friendship. Taco loved cats, and people, and cheese, which is really more family than friend.
But Taco had never loved anyone like this.
Almost instantly, the boys were inseparable. Boq shredded Taco’s timidity like lettuce. Taco made Boq feel like a billion bucks. They became a two-headed crunchwrap, a burrito of bliss.
It was the secret recipe for bravery.
The more Boq loved Taco, the more Taco melted like queso into our cuddles. The more Taco loved Boq, the more Boq dared to emerge from cubbies and crannies. In Taco’s love language, “Boq, Boq, Boq” meant “home, home, home.”
And if you walk into Suite G today, they’ll both rub your ankles like landmarks on the yellow-brick-road.
Take it from Boq. When you choose not to chicken out, but to chicken in, you find your place in this world, which just may be under another cat’s chin.
Love’s big heart won’t drop you, whether you are FeLV+ or fractious or feeling as sorry as a soggy chicken finger.
Boq, Boq, Boq. There’s no place like home.