Things can change terribly, wonderfully fast.
Locked doors may swing open.
Stone walls may turn into windows.
You may even show your belly.
The last time we spoke about Bella on this blog, she had hair long enough to braid. She had come to Tabby’s Place with grievances and without shame.
Had she not been called “Bella,” the glamour cat would have been a fitting “Princess.” But fairy tales are mere scribblings if they don’t have monsters.
Our Lady Lovely-Locks lost her castle without fanfare. There was once a royal family around her, and then there was not. The princess became a peasant overnight. Before she could peek in the mirror to make sure she was still the fairest in the land, Bella came to our court of jesters.
She was the best thing that ever happened to us. (She is tied for this title with the other 4,500 cats in the 21-year tale of Tabby’s Place. Each one is invincibly unique.) We aspired to be the best thing that ever happened to her.
But no noble cat lowers the drawbridge for mere words. You cannot un-break a heart with a bullet-point list of blessings. No delicate dissertation would convince Bella that her beautiful days had begun.
When everything changed, something locked up inside Bella. Betrayal would not rampage over her realm again. She filled her moats with nuclear alligators. Her soft heart lay frozen, far beneath her blizzard of hair.
We did what we could. We nestled Bella in the tender turret of a private suite, sending bards to serenade her. Our staff and volunteers water-skied the moat to make contact. Bella’s bright eyes opened, even as she guarded her heart. The princess walked the perimeter of her own pain.
We slipped love letters through the slot. Volunteers cleared their afternoons to blink slowly at a single cat, making her the center of the realm. Gentle people gave their hours, presenting Bella with rose quartz to calm her and squeeze-poultry to prove that life was not done being delicious.
We moved her into the Community Room, a cathedral hiding in plain sight beneath conference chairs and linoleum.
We gave Bella the kingdom. But when you are hairy and heartbroken, the door unlocks from the inside.
When you are sufficiently hairy, you may need assistance with other sorts of locks. Tangles put our Rapunzel at risk of becoming one gnarly knot. No guild of groomers could comb through her clouds. But inconveniences may birth the ties that bind.
The veterinary record will say that Bella received a “shave down.” But the fairy tale always tells the truth. Bella was bestowed with a Magical Makeover.
This was not the dull “glow-up” of a thousand teen movies, where the heroine turns pretty by taking off her glasses and donning a red dress. The wary cat did not need to become beautiful. Bella was always worthy, whether she was livid and long-haired or dreamlike and downy.
But things can change terribly, wonderfully fast.
The haircut left her looking very small, and feeling full-sized. The months of friendship gave way to fanfare. Bella relented to belly rubs, wriggling with bliss.
It took a long time. It took exactly the right amount of time.
The cat who once wafted through woe realized there was a window, and a big yellow sun that seemed to know her name. The skin that once scowled at our touch turned soft as a gosling, downy and trusting. Bella, the Princess, opened her eyes and saw love rush in.
Time, the sun, and every soul at Tabby’s Place are at Bella’s service.
The only monster is the gap between lunch and after-lunch lunch.
Freed from fear’s spell, Bella believes what every princess knows deep down: the tale may get tangled and hairy, but love will blaze the path.