If the world were black and white, Luke would have camouflage.

He would blend into the background. He would be unseen, unknown.

But the world is not black and white.

The world is a neon rumpus of patches and stripes. The world is tabbies as orange as nachos and tortoiseshells hand-painted like butterflies. The world is pink magnolia petals, apple-green clover, and a thousand places where a monochrome cat cannot hide.

If the world were black and white, Luke would have reason to hide. There would be rules and regulations, printed in monochrome. “Cooperative cats shall be cherished. Easy cats are entitled to affection. Straightforward cats get a free ride.”

But “straightforward” and “love” never share the same car, and only one will get you home.

Luke is not what you would call “straightforward.” He is as shy as italics, and he looks away if you stare too hard. The wild hues of kindness make him squint.

Meanwhile, Luke’s medical record is mottled. He lives with twin retroviruses, feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV) and feline leukemia virus (FeLV). Our vet calls them the “fighting virus” and the “friendly virus.” One comes on the business end of a bigger cat’s teeth. One comes from the sandpaper kisses of a friend who means no harm. Both suppress a cat’s immune system for life.

But where some might see a stain, Tabby’s Place sees paisley.

Luke is embroidered with needs and neuroses, just like the rest of us. He is proud and brave, timid and worried all at once. He is healthy and strong, fragile and delicate. He is a cat the colors of newsprint, but his golden eyes tell the story.

Luke is not black and white.

If Luke were black and white, he would have vanished into the city where he once scrounged for crumbs. A cat with Luke’s coat could slip between skyscrapers, just a shadow on the sidewalk.

But one vibrant woman was not colorblind. She glimpsed a cat of two colors and saw the whole kaleidoscope. She determined to save him.

She did not love him because he was handsome. She did not love him because he was black-and-white.

She loved him because he was alive and he was alone.

No application necessary. No need to color in the details. No need to know what no one can ever know when they choose to love.

Love is not black and white.

Love is a choice. It always chooses you back.

If hope was only for the “whole,” Luke would still be starving in Newark. If love was set aside for the extroverts and the uninfected, we would all be in trouble. But the world contains heroes with day jobs, and saints in sweatshirts. Acceptance needs no appendices. Safety has no footnotes.

And Tabby’s Place is the place where complicated cats of all colors (and species) are seen and celebrated, just the way they are.

Tabby’s Place is not black and white.

We will work with Luke as his kaleidoscope turns. Today, he tilts his head into sunbeams like sacraments. He Cookie Monsters his dry food without counting the kibbles. He turns away if you stare too hard. But soften your gaze, and he will blink poetry into your eyes.

He will tell you his story and ask yours.

Perhaps tomorrow he will lean into your touch, blushing as pink as his strawberry ice cream nose with one perfect chocolate chip in the center.

Maybe next week he will reconsider and dive beneath blue-green blankets.

He may battle infections, or his immune system may stay as strong as a yak until he is twenty. (We will do everything in our power to support this. We are strong proponents of yak merits.) He lives with two formidable foes (I mean FIV and FeLV, not Dewie and Abacus).

The future is a cacophony of colors, and we will face each one as it comes.

The world is not black and white. There is kindness for every complicated creature.

And if you go into Quinn’s Corner, you will see the most colorful cat you ever met.

More Blog Posts