In a world of lanterns and candles, Abacus was the bonfire.

He would love to be remembered as the cat whose fever never broke.

Abacus came to Tabby’s Place in February 2024, “double positive” and ablaze. The paperwork claimed our new black cat was infected with both feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV) and feline leukemia virus (FeLV). In the wrong place, these dour diagnoses snuff out any flicker of hope. But at Tabby’s Place, there are kindling for cozy firelight. We assured Abacus he was home.

He assured us he was not a cat in need of reassurance.

With a physique composed of “75% face, 25% body,”* Abacus had a “big head” by every definition. Abacus was infatuated with Abacus. Abacus was happy for us, because we were the people who got Abacus. That means we won. Abacus assumed everyone agreed he was the greatest Abacus who ever added excellence to the universe.

But it was to everyone’s benefit that he was so full of himself. This only meant he had a surplus of Abacus to bestow upon the rest of us.

Like a torch that goes around the room to light all the little candles, Abacus was not diminished by giving. The more he shared his light and heat, the stronger he grew.

There were days when we might have liked Abacus to be a smidge less strong. His bonfire spat plenty of bluster during his treatment for ringworm. That big head was equipped with teeth, and that big ego could burn. The same temper made Suite F too hot for certain paws to touch. Abacus was proud when he evicted bashful Checkers to another suite. He had his reasons. A bonfire does not ask forgiveness.

But sparks fly upward, and Abacus’ intentions were always warm.

If you caught him galloping like a wildebeest, he would screech to a halt the moment you made eye contact. The weight of his head lurched forward faster than his feet could keep up. On more than one occasion, I saw him crash straight into the window before he could stop. But it was worth it to smile into a friend’s eyes, confident a snuggle-fest was forthcoming.

Abacus was equally devoted to (some) cats. When it came to Luke, Dewie, and especially Trifecta, Abacus was the true blue flame that lights the night. The “double positives” had all been in hopeless situations, but that was hard to remember when Abacus reminded them they now had Abacus. Life was a light show, courtesy of a blazing black bowling ball attached to a body.

Abacus’ body did not always cooperate with his love of life.

We thought we might lose him when feline lower urinary tract disease torched his health. Many cats are prone to urinary crystals, and a prescription diet is often sufficient treatment. If the problem persists, surgery is curative. It is anatomically almost impossible to have a bladder blockage after this procedure.

But Abacus never answered to “almosts,” much less “impossibles.”

He blocked yet again, resulting in the strictest dietary restriction in all of Tabby’s Place. Not a single kibble of the wrong food could cross his lips. We all held our breaths, hovering like clouds. Abacus resumed his full schedule of rowdiness and proceeded to blaze in bliss.

When you are friends with a fever dream like Abacus, you forget that he has FeLV. You forget that he is mortal at all, since he is so good at reminding you that you are alive. FeLV is always smoldering, but it may not flare up for months, years, more. Since Abacus was made entirely of “more,” we assumed his lifespan was somewhere in the range of forever.

So when a stubborn fever set in, we did not get discouraged. It was just an inconvenience, a brief blackout. Our vet team lit every candle in the cupboard.

But one after the next, our options were quenched. Abacus was getting worse, not better. This was a blaze we could not contain. Love demanded that we let him go before the roof caved in.

Our vet team gave Abacus one last dose of pain medication, so he could spend his last day sunning among friends. He basked in the rainbow of visitors, an arc of light and tears all day. He informed Trifecta he was not leaving, only leveling up.

He closed the twin suns of his eyes in the circle of love, and opened them again at the campfire that never ends. He is galloping there today, still stopping short at the sight of a friend. Perhaps Checkers, aflame with forgiveness, was the first to greet him.

We could not break Abacus’ final fever, but Abacus remained unbroken. He raised the temperature and the tenderness of the room. His torch still travels, in every candle he ever lit. Until we meet again, beloved boy, we will carry your flame.

*Carolyn’s perfect description.

Thanks to our beloved volunteer Cendrine for this video of Abacus and Trifecta:

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