With alarming regularity, cats from New York seem to come to Tabby’s Place with ringworm.

It’s been so predictable over the years that we have a conspiracy theory about New Yorkers: they all have ringworm 100% of the time. (We’re onto your secret, Ernie Anastos and Jon Stewart and Sue Simmons and all you TV New Yorkers: you’re wearing gobs of makeup over your red scaly scalitude.) So, we were utterly elated that only 1/8 of our latest NY batch had the fungus.

We are less than elated that this particular eighth is Tiffany.

Tiffany is gorgeous. Tiffany is tiny. Tiffany is healthy and young and strong and delightful.

Tiffany is out of her ever-lovin’ mind.

If Anthony or Gunther had been the fungusy feline, we would have felt bad about dipping him in stinky lime sulfur…but those would have been emotional feelings of badness, not dripping-blood physical feelings of badness. High-energy, wacky Tiffany has no qualms about defending herself from the ringworm cure – or us. Our dilute calico teenager will twist and turn and go all Cirque du Soleil on our intrepid staff as they attempt to lower her into the sludge. (Note to new readers: we really aren’t a bunch of sadistic crazies. Ringworm is nasty business, and unfortunately the only effective cure is three weeks of dips in lime sulfur. Trust me, we wish it weren’t so.)

Fortunately, once the ordeal is over, so is Tiffany’s terrorism. When not battling the daily dip (and we dipsticks who dare to dip her), Tiffany is a purry, snuggly darling whose favorite activity is reenacting the old board game Hungry Hungry Hippos. Despite being no bigger than a Webkinz kitten, Tiffany eats like it’s going out of style. Already our vet team is making cracks about how Tiff will ’splode in size once she’s spayed. No matter: this little love will rock any body type – and she’ll be happy to rearrange your face if you disagree. 🙂 As you can see, she’s an unconventional beauty – think Julianna Margulies rather than Gwyneth Paltrow. But she is a great beauty. (Tell her she is a beauty. Really, tell her.)

Team Tiff’s final three members were the New York surprises. Have you ever been to a fancy restaurant, savored a sumptuous meal from soup to nuts, and then been regaled by a surprise course? All of a sudden, after you’ve paid and it’s all over but the indigestion, the waiter will reemerge with a big smile and a tray of dainties – maybe petits fours, maybe sherbet…

…maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

We never specify what “kind” of cats we want when we rescue from shelters, so we had no idea that New York would be sending us kittens this time. Three kittens. Sibling kittens.

Kittens named Peanut, Butter, and Jelly.

THUD!

It’s no surprise that most of this sandwich has already been consumed – er, adopted. Butter was the first out the gate (I suspect she greased it). Her loving new family renamed her, which was the occasion of the Tabby’s Place staff becoming a herd of Big Giant Dorks. (Becoming? Like this is a new phenomenon? Angela, who are you kidding?) When we learned that Butter’s family had dubbed her “Obi,” we began wondering what fascinating new holistic food “obi butter” might be. Surely her family had stuck with the butterine theme, right? Because everyone thinks like us, right?

You heard it here first: there is no such thing as obi butter. Yet.

There is, on the other hand, a family who was ready for this Jelly (with all apologies to Destiny’s Child). And, I trust, there will be one soon enough for the most timid little nut of all, Peanut. Black and white and scared all over, Peanut is currently cuddling in the nursery with new “sisters” Sadie and Samantha. But we know it’s just a matter of time before our love-juggernaut cracks this nut and sets her free for a life of adoration.

And that, my Ringoes-and-beyond friends, beats even the fabbest Manhattan fashion.

Update: Peanut has been adopted. Raise your hand if you are surprised. Hand count: zero.

*Thanks to PWhAM (People Who Aren’t Me) for these photos: Tiffany by Ginny; Obi Butter by her adopters. Peanut and Jelly eluded our photographic grasp. Rest assured they were cuter than a duck in a hat.

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