If you would like to get people agitated, ask if they vote Democrat or Republican.
If you would like to instigate a riot, ask if they prefer Wawa or Quick Chek.
We shall not delve into either of these topics, because my hobbies include not fired. We shall do something far more edifying.
We shall consult an oracle who is brave enough not to see things in black-and-white, and wise enough to go slowly.
Checkers sees no need to cast his vote for “either” or for “or.” He is equally interested in a Wawa Gobbler and a Quick Chek Kickin’ Wrap. He has even heard of a land to the West, where Shmiscuits and Shmuffins drip with cheese product. His political philosophy has room for all. He was painted in two colors, but he welcomes every hue and who.
It is fitting for a cat who lives not with either FIV or FeLV, but both.
But if Checkers is a “both/and” man, this is not to say he lacks principles. Far from it. His knees may knock together if you make sudden movements, and his ears may flatten like panini if you yell your orders.
But Checkers is as sturdy as the moon that resembles his head. The world is ragged from too many rush orders.
Checkers chooses the slower way. If he had a tattoo, it would read poco a poco, “little by little.” Instead, the ink is in his actions.
Never was a cat more deliberate than the dichromatic dumpling of Quinn’s Corner. Checkers has waited this long, he is going to savor every fleck of Suite F. He came all the way from Connecticut, but miles matter little when your situation is hopeless.
There were fine delis there, corner booths where a cat can find grilled cheese and fresh yeses. We know this must be true, or else Checkers would never have made his move to Tabby’s Place. Someone reached across the counter and chose the cat with two diagnoses that no one ever orders.
Love savored Checkers enough to save him, and he is not going to rush through the feast.
This means we are in for extended play. This is not Connect Four, no Chutes & Ladders. Checkers has already heard “sorry” enough for several lifetimes. The bashful cat beseeches us to be patient with him while he considers his moves. He is the beautiful game, and none of his pursuits are trivial. He chews every hour well. He reminds us that the sandwich was first invented for folks who took a card game seriously enough to go slow.
He reminds us that Tabby’s Place is exactly what he would have ordered. He reminds us that, for all its strife and chaos, the cosmos just might be ordered.
You and Checkers and I will sleep beneath the moon tonight, whether or not we see it. Like the careful cat who asks our patience, the moon waxes and wanes. It is most invisible when it is closest to the sun, gathering up light. It comes back to the table with arms full, enough to share with everyone.
Checkers is gathering light, too. He is looking, long and slow, into every set of eyes. He is checking, confirming: yes, kindness lives here, too. Here is another good heart, and another, and another. The process is not quick. The game is for keeps.
The melting is mutual.
So carry Checkers in your heart the next time you make a pit stop. Close your eyes to enjoy every bite. Don’t debate when you can delight in the whole menu. Use your crayons down to the nubs.