We hold our breath on Christmas Eve.
Can the promises hold our weight, though we are not kittens anymore?
Can we hang onto all we believed, though are arms are full of grown-up things?
What if the situation stays hopeless, and the cookies by the fireplace are still untouched in the morning?
What if the animals don’t talk at midnight, or the world is too old for joy?
The highest bough looks too fragile.
But tonight is a night for sitting on the floor.
At Tabby’s Place, it is always the right time to sit on the floor. This is where the cats live, whether they run like deer or scoot like misfit toys.
Without a word, they coax us to their level. They rub their cheeks on our faces, until all our wrinkles have been whisker-kissed.
They fall into our knees like puddles of pudding, gazing at us like the gift they wanted most.
On the floor, you can’t stop looking up. It is hard to hold your breath when Betty holds your gaze. She is the cat who lives again.
Adopted as a kitten, bereaved in old age, she has no ghosts of Christmases past. She has gone from love, to love, and still has much to say.
On the floor, we are all together. At the cats’ level, distance collapses.
Love gathered Braveheart from Baltimore, Peabody from St. Louis, Peeka from Beirut, and Berry from the distant universe called Last Year. Everything looked impossible at the hour of his birth, but love was giggling behind the garland.
The gnarled pretzel of a kitten now lives inside a wreath of adorers. The scattered strangers have become family.
On the floor, it is safe to be little. The average cat stands nine inches tall. None of them expects to be let down.
We are all amazed when The Big Sad comes untrue. Papillon outlived leprosy. Pibb mourned and was comforted. Lotus received his sister back from the brink. Brownie forgave. Willie relearned peace, a project that is still piecemeal.
It is all still piecemeal, here on the floor.
But a humble place is always where the hopes and fears of all the years converge.
And on Christmas Eve, we are held by the Breath that brought us all together.
We are so very grateful you are with us, Tabby’s Place family.
Merry Christmas to every single living being at Tabby’s Place (with an extra wish for Olive, the world’s best door greeter and the very first resident angel I met). Thank you all for everything you do for these precious creatures, and especially for your efforts in rescuing and nurturing “Cinereous” (now known as Misty) back to health, and then sharing her with our family. She is a true blessing, as are all of you.