The smallest trees can hold the sweetest nests.

With no fanfare or bluster, one little olive tree sheltered many birds.

Olivia was rootless when we met her in 2020. Outdoor life had been quiet but kind. Meals arrived on time, and sunbeams marked the seasons.

But when the colony’s caregiver passed away, the cats were stripped of peace. Olivia and her sister, Sunflower, trembled like leaves.

There are few havens for a middle-aged cat who has never been touched. But you are never too old to be replanted. If you have “too many” rings on your trunk, and your eyes are weary from searching for someone who will never come back, you are right on time to become a Tabby’s Place cat.

At first, Olivia was unsure about this new world. Her toes had grown tough on rocky ground, and fleece and linoleum were as foreign as moon dust. She had to admit that this softness felt good … but once you’ve fallen from one nest, it’s hard to trust another.

And then there were all the faces, smiling like the sun in a child’s drawing. Everyone at Tabby’s Place was so dang happy to see Olivia. That happiness persisted, no matter how many times they saw her. She did not get “old” to these odd, excitable people.

Staff and volunteers beamed at Olivia, day after day. The lights did not flicker when Olivia asked not to be petted. Warmth was not a paycheck for a harvest of hugs. Smiles were not awards for Best Performance by an Indoor Cat.

Love was the soil under Tabby’s Place. Olivia’s roots were secure. She was Olivia, and she was ours.

That kind of safety is enough to wiggle your branches.

It’s enough to turn you into a shelter yourself.

In the arbor of a love she could not lose, Olivia became a tree of life. The tight buds of fear opened like orange flowers. Her gaze softened. She started smiling back at all the friends who touched her heart without demanding to touch her.

She became the “favorite” of many.

She laughed as she realized that people — people! — had quietly become her second favorite species.

But Olivia’s heart always belonged to her birds.

In her eyes, every cat was the bluebird of happiness. She did not forget the years when the kindness of cats was her only sanctuary under the open sky. Now, she would shelter every cat in need of comfort. Her golden years would be a golden age for Suite E.

Little Olivia, the former feral, would keep every neighbor safe.

A colorful aviary thrived in Olivia’s orbit. On any given day, you might find her nestling with cuckoo Juel or shy nightingale Magda. Swaggering flamingos like Shaggy and bashful owls like Nirvana were equally at home in our olive tree.

Her branches stretched wide enough for the whole family.

We wish her years could have stretched on without end.

True to her nature, Olivia drew no attention to her discomfort. She fought to stand tall even as arthritis made her unsteady on her feet. She persevered up and down the ramp to her beloved solarium, stopping to cuddle friends who needed her.

But then, a mass appeared on Olivia’s lip. Steroids subdued her cancer at first. A special blend of Chinese herbs, lovingly dosed into chicken broths, soothed some of Olivia’s symptoms.

We knew we were only buying time.

As autumn unfurled, our stoic girl was struggling. We would have rearranged the pillars of the Earth to bring her relief.

But it was time to give the most difficult shelter to the cat who lived for others. Mercy mingled with tears as Olivia gently left us, encircled by staff who adored her.

There is a painful chasm in Suite E today, as though a great and noble tree has been plucked from our land.

We do not grieve alone, as Olivia’s “birds” search for their nest. They look to us for comfort and thank us by catching our tears in their fur.

We will miss our little olive tree forever. Yet Olivia’s roots ran deeper than death can reach.

She will be here, every time we offer shelter to someone small and weary.

We will hear her in the wind, every time we welcome a stranger.

The tree of life is still intact, as long as we are nests to the next cat, and the next, and the next.

Olivia, we will treasure you forever. Until we meet again, beloved girl. Kiss Sunflower for us.

Reflections from some of Olivia’s devoted friends on our staff:

Tiffany: “Olivia was one of a kind. She was the Queen of Suite E, and I was more than happy to wait on her. I’m grateful that I at least go to pet her and give her a kiss before she passed on.”

Grace: “Olivia was a really special girl. When I was a volunteer and did the thorough clean of Suite E, I played a game, ‘Olivia or Sunflower?’ when climbing up to the ramp. I wouldn’t know which sister was which until I saw Olivia’s telltale ‘grumpy’ eyes. She really didn’t love people (and she certainly let us know that), but she was a true friend to her fellow cats and loved snuggling on the ramp or in the solarium. Her friendship with Juel melted my heart. Suite E won’t be the same without her.”

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