Let’s face it: things are expensive.

But, be of good cheer!

We have a renowned financial expert right here at Tabby’s Place.

Clifford can show us how to save dough without cutting corners.

If you have any qualms about his qualifications, just look at Clifford. He bears more than a passing resemblance to … dough.

I am not talking about dainty lemon loaves for your afternoon tea. I am talking about that garlicky volleyball at the pizzeria. If dough were a dude, it would look identical to Clifford.

Of course, there is no one identical to Clifford.

He is infinitely squishable but will not fit into any mold. He tests positive for feline leukemia virus (FeLV) but is positive that this only makes him more interesting, like a third ear or a photographic memory.

He is the wealthiest cat at Tabby’s Place, but his feasts are no fancier than anyone else’s.

Clifford won’t tell you that he is a self-made tycoon, but he can’t hide it. He is too tickled by his own good fortune.

Look in his eyes. They are laughing out loud. Look away too long, and Clifford will goose you with your paw until you are also laughing out loud. Our dough boy is a philanthropist, eager to spread his wealth.

It’s not that Clifford has never been burned. He’s got that inconvenient diagnosis, and he nearly ran out of time in a public shelter. Maybe some cats would cut the crusts off their past if they could. Sometimes we would all prefer a simpler sandwich.

But Clifford is too rich for that.

Clifford wants the entire diner menu, even those weird pages where the chef gets creative with squid waffles and rhubarb bisque. Clifford wants what he has, which is the rarest “want” of all.

Clifford wants you, incapacitated by infatuation. Clifford wants me, mewling love songs into his enormous ears. Clifford wants Wednesdays, Sundays, cardboard scratchers, and catnip bananas.

Clifford wants the sound of trucks roaring down Route 202 outside his solarium, and the sound of his own name cooed like a code word for “forever.”

Clifford is everything that ever happened to him, and everything yet to come. That loaf is too crusty to pick apart.

FeLV got him to Tabby’s Place. Some great mercy hid yeast in the dough, and Clifford intends to rise to the occasion of his life.

Clifford wants what he has, and he gets what he wants. It’s enough to send anyone spinning overhead like a pizza pie. Every time he logs into his bank account, the balance says HAPPY.

But Clifford knows that most tycoons are blind to their riches.

So, Clifford is here to teach us a few budgeting principles.

First, don’t pay big bucks for yesterday when today is free. Resentment has a high interest rate, but no one will charge you for this moment.

There is no tax on galloping through the solarium, pretending to be an iridescent unicorn. There is no late fee on lolling in someone’s lap until you both fall asleep and have the same dream. (Yes, Clifford dreams of meeting Gandalf at Burger King, too. What are the odds, right?)

There is no invoice for the bliss of a chin-skritch.

Being bummed about the past is pricey business. Far better to invest in this instant.

Second, never assume that “serious” means “important.”

A night at the opera is serious, but an afternoon rubbing Clifford’s belly is important. Seersucker pants are serious, but fleece blankets festooned with SpongeBob are important. Cucumber sandwiches are serious, but cocktail wieners are important. And which is more expensive? Uh huh, now you’re catching on.

Clifford is of infinite importance. What does it cost to canoodle with Clifford?

Are you starting to see it? You’re a tycoon.

But Clifford has one last tip, and it’s the most important.

Don’t cut corners.

Cutting corners may make your dough fit neatly in the pan. But the unruly scraps are the best part.

Cutting corners may ensure you are on time, under budget, and in control. But the fun that comes from the messy bits is the richest fare.

Cutting corners would keep us from caring for cats whose futures are as unknown as our own. We might save a few cents on grief. We might get a rebate on uncertainty.

But the cat with the doughy smile hopes we’ll dare to be tycoons.

He promises: love is always Cliffordable.

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