Chaz has been through more than we know.
Chaz says that’s enough to know. Now, can we get back to smiling, please?
If it were up to Chaz, no one would ask the question, “what has Chaz been through?” If they did, some great Morgan Freeman-voiced narrator would chortle, “oh, pish, posh,” from above the ceiling tiles, so we could all just get on with smiling uncontrollably and feeding each other cheese.
If it were up to Chaz, many things would be improved.
It would be considered normal to show your excitement every time you see your friends. I do not mean when they meet you at the coffee shop or knock on your door. I mean every time you see them, literally, even if you last saw them eleven seconds ago.
When your friend comes back from the restroom, jump up and down. If they go to their car to get something, clap for one full minute when they return. If they walk down the hallway and then return to you, throw your arms around them until they say it’s starting to get weird, and then hold on just a little longer.
Do you know, do you really know, how astonishing it is to have friends?
Chaz knows. Chaz was one of one hundred thirty eight friends Tabby’s Place saved in the Great Colony Rescue of 2024. That’s one hundred thirty eight exquisite individuals, each in need of their own medical and behavioral plan. We tended to the sick and offered tenderness to the terrified. We gave them names and gave them time.
Among the hundred thirty eight, Chaz was one frail old man with gastrointestinal issues. He looked like an old grey blanket stretched over ribs. He was weathered, but still determined to keep someone warm. He appeared to have never had one treat. He appeared to have lymphoma.
But now I am talking about what Chaz has been through, and Chaz would rather talk about his friends.
Chaz attempted to cuddle all the friends, individually and collectively. Chaz blew his own cover, shimmying out of hiding to say “hi!” several times in rapid succession.
Chaz blew up the definition of “friend” to include human beings.
Chaz had so much fun, he said “kaboom!” every time he acquired a new best friend. If it were up to Chaz, we would all use the word “kaboom!” far more often. Also “zoiks” and “gadzooks.” If it were up to Chaz, “best friend” would be an infinitely expandable accordion file.
Do you know, do you really know, how many potential best friends you will encounter today?
Our vet team is a value pack of best friends. They take care of Chaz, and Chaz can’t stop smiling. They say Chaz may have cancer, but if you mention that, Chaz will dismiss it with a wave of his tail. It is irrelevant. What is relevant is that the vet team is one hundred percent best friend material.
You know what else is relevant? Patches is relevant. Chaz knows a thing or two about chemistry, and Chaz has confirmed that Patches is made of friendship all the way to the molecular level. It is enough to make you write a poem consisting entirely of the word “gadzooks” fifty times in a row.
The friendship of one Patches would be enough for one lifetime. But life also gave Chaz Gulliver. Do you know, do you really know, about Gulliver? Gulliver has a tail the length of a fun size Kit Kat. Gulliver has a heart the radius of eleven universes. Gulliver has a complete inability to distinguish between friends and family, which is proof enough for Chaz that Gulliver is Earth’s preeminent genius.
And can Chaz tell you about Tux? Tux is older than Chaz. Tux is older than Diplodocus. Tux is almost as old as Keith Richards. If Chaz and Tux were human, they would be two old men in suspenders helping each other cross the street. But Chaz and Tux are cats, so they curl up like prawns in the sun and pretend they command fiefdoms and Red Lobsters.
We have scarcely scratched the surface of Chaz’s winning lottery ticket. Chaz has best friends named Ginny the human and Rori the extra-terrestrial and Eartha, whose precise species has yet to be determined. (The latter are not exactly aware that they are Chaz’s best friends, but that is irrelevant.)
Chaz has best friends who bring breakfast and best friends who sit on the floor until their hips grumble and best friends whose chin-skritches reach the level of sacrament. Chaz has a very best friend named Karina, but more on her in a moment.
Still, people walk into the Community Room, see a cat thin as angel hair, and ask, “what has that guy been through?”
So Chaz has to do something serious.
Chaz has to smile out loud.
If that sounds impossible, you do not know Chaz, and you should stop reading this blog immediately to remedy that. But I am telling the truth. Thanks to intense training, Chaz has mastered the ability to smile out loud.
This is impossible to describe, but I will try.
All the bones in Chaz’s cheeks are best friends with each other, and they commence a group hug unlike anything this world has ever seen. Chaz may squeak out a mirth-chirp that sounds like the highest note on the kindergarten xylophone, although sometimes he is too excited to make a sound. The sound is not the point. The smile is the point.
And this smile could save the world, if we would let it.
But first, we need to stop talking about what Chaz has been through.
Do you know, do you really know, how lucky we all are to be here today?
If you did, you would be as unconcerned with the past as Chaz, and all the bones in your cheeks would be cheering. It is impossible to smile out loud with a mouthful of bitterness. If it were up to Chaz, we would all be so sweet to each other, smiling would be unstoppable. Everyone would start grinning, and gadzook-ing, and giving this incredible day its due.
Do you know, do you really know, that a day can be a friend?
We do not know how many of them Chaz has been given, but that is irrelevant. Pish, posh. What matters is this one, and then the next one, and then the next one. May we befriend them, and each other. Did I catch you smiling?
Breaking news: Tomorrow, Chaz will get the biggest smile of his life so far, when he moves into his Forever Foster home with our incomparable, extraordinary, unconditionally loving Karina.