We’re all a little extra-zingy right now.
This is the time of year in which perfectly sane people display 10,000 individual sparkly icicles and blown-glass pickles and 18′ tall Harley-riding Santas at their homes. This is the season when prudent, placid people do dangerous things like drink egg nog of unknown origin and sing threatening songs like “Now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring it right here,” and ominously add, “We won’t go until we get some.”
But every day is a day of zing when you’re the child of the promise. I introduce to you Isaac.
If Tabby’s Place were a gigantic feline high school – which I suppose, in a sense, it is – Isaac would be the guy who sat behind you on the bus, copied your homework, and sang the theme from Bonanza over and over again just to get your goat.
He’d then be the same guy who, when you had no date for the prom, would chivalrously escort you himself…while wearing a pastel-blue ruffled zoot suit.
A quirkmaster. A friend for life. And, a child of great promise.
In Hebrew, Isaac is translated, “He will laugh.” As you can see, that’s certainly true for this wide-eyed swirly tabby. He will laugh – today and tomorrow and every five minutes in between. What’s not to revel over when you have all the toys and all the cats and all the sparkly things your eyes can consume? Every instant is a matter of excitement for Isaac.
Not all of Isaac’s roommates have gotten the memo that life is funny. When I hung out with Isaac yesterday afternoon, he was simultaneously playing with three toys, a pair of stuffed antlers, and a cat tree. The look on Melanie‘s face dripped with are you for real?
Isaac is, in fact, better than “for real.” Like his biblical namesake, our zingiest tabby carries the full weight of promises that are bigger than he is. He’s thrilled to little stripey bits just to have toys and time and hugs – but he has no idea what wonders await.
Isaac is going to get a forever home. Smart money is on that happening sooner than later.
If he could communicate it to Melanie, an old soul who was recently returned from her own adoptive home, Isaac would extend the promise. This is a promise to bless all nations – or at least, all cats. You will have a home. You will have love the likes of which your heart has never imagined.
And, in the meantime, you will have Tabby’s Place. You are whole. You are loved. You are celebrated.
And that – plus a pair of stuffed antlers – is good enough for the child of promise. Figgy pudding optional.