Taylor Ham

Taylor Ham is in on all the jokes.

Did you hear the one about the cat so theatrical, they named him “Ham”?

Did you hear the one about New Jersey, where people debate the names of meat products…and the non-partisan cat sanctuary with both a Porkroll and a Taylor Ham?

Did you hear the one about the bony hobo in a hopeless situation…who became a tubby jester, fat with jubilation?

If you hear giggling, you must be in the vicinity of our comedian, the one and only Taylor Ham. Please, drop all formality. He may be in a tuxedo, but his favorite garment is a goofy smile. Give him five minutes, and you’ll be wearing one, too.

Taylor Ham wasn’t always laughing. Not long ago, his tux was baggy, as his hungry belly howled for hope. But each meager morsel was bittersweet. Taylor had a mouthful of agony. Infected with feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV), the gentle cat was prone to infection, and his dental disease raged with no hope of comfort.

But Tabby’s Place laughs at the word “hopeless.” We have a beef with “impossible.” And soon, we had a ragged little tuxedo purring in our arms.

Even in pain, Taylor Ham wanted everyone to smile. He dressed us up in his love, grateful for every kiss. We promised him a future free of tragedy. It turns out that meant a future free of teeth. Taylor Ham’s dental disease was so severe, relief meant removal of all his teeth and roots.

Cats can live meaty lives without chewing, and Taylor took big bites out of his new world. Our cuddly comedian loved cats and humans…and then there was food. As far as Taylor Ham was concerned, you could call it whatever you like; just don’t call him late for dinner!

But there would be one more drama before the grand comedy could begin. Without warning, Taylor Ham developed life-threatening diabetic ketoacidosis. Intensive care saved his life, but he would now have to work diabetes into his act.

Since Taylor is a Tabby’s Place cat, joy continued uninterrupted. Our debonair boy would simply join our cherished cadre of diabetic cats. Taylor Ham and his fellow diabetics direct our day at Tabby’s Place, where our schedule is set by the precise timing of insulin injections.

It’s a minor inconvenience for a major marvel like Taylor Ham.

These days, his tuxedo fits a bit tighter. His physique has been compared to a zeppelin, a basketball, and a black-tie watermelon. Taylor lolls in laps like a suave walrus, teaching the world the power of a toothless smile.

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