There are two truths no casual observer will catch.

One: Cats are proof that our universe is governed by love.

Two: Every living creature is creative. Even you.

Even Pegasus.

You have to be pretty creative when you are as pretty as Pegasus. The angels handed her starlit fur and a ballerina’s poise. The universe could not decide if blue or green eyes are prettier, so it gave Pegasus one of each, like David Bowie.

Pegasus does not intend to admire her own reflection in the moonlight. She is too serious for that.

She is serious about snacks. This was a saving grace the day she came to Tabby’s Place. She was born in Beirut, then bewildered by a fourteen-hour flight.

But salmon nuggets shaped like stars could bridge the language gap. Our staff stacked them like bricks and mortar. Pegasus slapped them with her white-gloved paw, then ate them. (The treats, not the staff.)

She is serious about sprinting. Open the door to Suite E, and Pegasus will prove that her name was no accident. Her legs turn into laughter as she outruns you eleven times. Do not try to catch her. Let her run her course. She is as solid as mashed potatoes in motion, but as graceful as a great white heron. (She is greater than all the herons.)

But Pegasus knows when to land. She is in complete control as she trots back into her suite. It is only a coincidence that you shooed her in that direction. Thank you for your assistance.

She is serious about being taken seriously. To a casual observer, she is a plush doll for a nursery, a pampered puff from a lullaby. She is as pristine as a blank slate, with no visible scars. She is so splendid, you expect her to sprout wings, immune to the anguish of the earthbound.

Yet Pegasus has four feet on the ground.

She has known many shadows. Those otherworldly eyes are full of questions. Will these walls hold? Will you keep smiling back, whether I purr or recoil? Have I left one war zone for another, trading Beirut rubble for lightweight love?

We do not know what Pegasus saw in Lebanon, only that the years asked much of her.

We would not blame Pegasus if she wrote off the universe.

Instead, she is writing poetry.

The pretty face holds a magnificent mind. Not content to be beheld, Pegasus gazes back. She uses our treats to rebuild her courage. She takes our patience to craft small sonnets. She takes the time she needs, because time is a language known by lovers everywhere.

Love is creative, because living beings change.

We are travelers, sometimes crossing light-years in a day. We bump into each other, tangling the strings in our mobiles. We slap around in the mud and forget we are each other’s only wings.

Pegasus has not forgotten.

Pegasus is serious. She is making sure we remember she is soil and soul, not just starlight; a history book, not a fairy tale.

She is not about to give up on that impossible idea that urges artists onward: the universe, despite appearances, is still governed by love.

And at Tabby’s Place, if we’re creative, we get to prove her right.

Update: Pegasus now has her proof. That’s right: the most creative cat has found her forever home!

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