Last summer, Tabby’s Place had the honor of rescuing graceful grey cats.

Many graceful grey cats.

Yet despite the family resemblance, each was one of a kind. Today, we are grieving the one and only Popples.

Along with an avalanche of uncles, cousins, siblings and such, Popples came to us from a complicated colony. The caregivers were good people, and the cats were loved. But the cats were numerous. Few were neutered, many were sick, and most were wary of our touch.

Popples was among that number. But Popples was not just a number.

Dainty as a silver charm, Popples was part of the “1980s Toy Squad.” When we welcome cats in waves like this, we often name them by themes, so Popples was accompanied by Skip-It, Nerf, Rubiks, Polaroid, and Tetris. The names would prove prophetic.

Although our new arrivals were solemn with us, they turned into carefree toys once the lights went out. Nighttime camera footage caught them jesting through their suite, silver comets with laughing tails. Whether or not we could ever kiss them, the sight of their bliss was as warm as a hug. They were safe, happy, and together.

If Popples wore a locket, it would have the faces of all the other cats inside, and that word — together — etched on the back. Around people, Popples turned into … well, a Popple, the shy little plush animal that can hide inside itself. But with his family, Popples flourished.

And soon enough, Popples added a tiny, secret compartment to his locket.

He was not the kind of cat to slather the word “family” on every stranger. But there was no escaping the sense that these tall, peculiar, occasionally-graceful creatures were Popples’ people. Breakfasts and eye-blinks arrived without expectation. Love touched Popples even though hands did not. Patience was proof of love.

At Tabby’s Place, love is never tethered to a timeline. You may hide and hiss as long as you need. Go on and slap the hand that brings your red-and-white French fry tray of giblets. Yell “you’re not my real mom!” and scowl down from the ceiling tube. You cannot lose our love, even if you cannot believe it.

But Popples believed.

Popples saw us grinning like grandparents every time he frolicked. He soaked in our smiles when we caught him cuddling some cousin or another. He knew that we loved him for who he was: the tenderhearted, brave, one and only Popples.

Nobody knew that the hour was late.

Like many of his kith and kin, Popples always struggled with upper respiratory issues. Reports of his “snot rockets” bordered the fantastical. But behind less serious symptoms lay something more sinister. His weight began falling, and he grew dehydrated and hypothermic. Popples’ kidney values soared too high for the machine to read.

Our valiant medical team gave Popples every chance, providing IV fluids and heat support. But, as always, Popples spoke softly but clearly. If we loved him, we would be gentle. Surrounded by adoring staff, Popples left his family on Earth for the family that knows no end.

We will carry him in our own heart-shaped lockets forever.

Darling Popples, thank you for letting us join your family. Until we meet again, may you soar with zest and bliss.

I am in awe of our staff every hour of every day. Yet there have been few sights more poignant than their patience and devotion with Popples and all of our timid colony cats. The following reflections come from angels on Earth who cared tenderly for Popples. You are all my heroes. – A.T.

“Popples was one of the biggest personalities in Suite A. he knew what he liked—horsing around with Tapenade and Gordon, laser pointers, food time—and he knew what he didn’t like—people. I respected him for that. He was not necessarily shy, he would merely keep his distance and hiss if you dared to cross his boundaries.

“But, he LOVED his friends. He could often be seen snuggled up to Tapenade, or wrestling with him out in broad daylight. He was such a brave, goofy boy. He left such a beautiful mural of mucus on the window for everyone to see. He would often sit on the perch right by the window to Suite A, and watch people go by and fawn over how handsome he was. I think he was truly quite comfortable and happy with his friends, and I’m so glad he got to spend his last moments with them.” – Claudia M.

“Popples was a special guy. He didn’t love people, but he loved his cat buddies. He was one of what I called ‘the three stooges’ in Suite A (along with Gordon and Tapenade), and would run up and down the room trying to get everyone else to wrestle with him.

“When he wasn’t roughhousing, he was sitting at the window looking out. Since I carry a laser pointer with me, he quickly recognized me as the human who brought the fun red dot. He’s jump up and get all excited when I walked by. I’ll miss that little boogery face.” – Grace W.

Video by Grace:

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