When is a post that’s not about Tabby’s Place actually, in fact, about Tabby’s Place?

When it’s about the Tabby’s Place cat who didn’t quite become a Tabby’s Place cat…for the best possible reason.

Before I confuse you any further, let’s hand things over to longtime reader, first-time caller Robin L.:

“Sometimes it’s a good thing when a cat doesn’t come to Tabby’s Place. How is that possible when Tabby’s Place is the pinnacle for puddy-tats? Well, let’s get the story straight from the kitty in question. I present to you…my June.

“Once upon a time, my Tabby’s Place friends, I was a sad little cat. Through circumstances unknown, I found myself scrounging on the street in a tough neighborhood with my kittens in tow, dodging stones thrown by unkind children. There was — bless his heart — a man in his 90s who took pity and gave me food, but I was too scared to get close. His granddaughter saw me limping on my deformed front paw and sought help. This was the day my life changed.

“I was scared, I admit it. I cowered in a cube in a small room where a woman Elmer Fudd might call ‘Wobbin’ fed me and sat with me, day after day. She named me June, after the month of my rescue.

“My two boys, big enough to be on their own, were in another room, playing and pouncing and knowing the love of a human for the first time. They were adopted out together to a forever home.

“Little by little, I realized that Wobbin was destined to be my Mommy nurse servant, and I joined her clowder. Mind you, I didn’t deign to become friends with the other purr-persons, but I tolerated them as long as they acknowledged my status as a superior being.

“But then, Wobbin awoke one morning to find me dragging my back legs and rushed me to the emergency vet. After enduring many indignities, I learned the medical team’s stunning conclusion: They didn’t know what was wrong. Was it the much-feared blood clot? No. A disease? No. My bloodwork was perfect. Did I, by chance, take a flying leap from the top of a cat tree without my Super Kitty parachute? No, I was never much of a climber.

“Wobbin took me home and put me in a crate so I could rest, which confused me because I pretty much already knew how to rest. This was actually good, because I was by myself in her newly-finished basement. Before, I’d had to share my Mommy with the other, lower cats, but now she was all mine whenever she entered JuneWorld. Muuuahahahahahaha!

“In the weeks ahead, I went for laser therapy and acupuncture, but I still couldn’t walk. (I can move my legs, but I can’t stand up and move them.) Wobbin reached out to Angela at Tabby’s Place about the Exceptional Circumstances Program. And then Wobbin tossed, turned, and tossed again. Should she give me, her little Junebug, her June-ee-furr, her June-a-licious, to Tabby’s Place, where she knew I would be worshipped and adored and all my Special Needs accommodated? Or should she keep me, Her Royal Juneness, and care for me herself, in the manner to which I had become accustomed?

“Naturally, Wobbin talked to me about it. I sat. I listened. I yawned. I stared into nothingness. I graciously allowed her to express my bladder and then pooped in my bed and watched her clean up.

“One evening my feline intuition told me that Wobbin was going to Make A Decision. As my Mommy sat next to me and petted me, it arose. I didn’t plan it, my friends. It was beyond my control. It came from the most profound, deepest depths, from the Mariana Trench of my soul: THE PURR. Of unprecedented decibels, with subtle harmonies, punctuated by meows for tummy rubs, anatomy-defying head twists, and green eyes burning with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns – such is THE PURR.

“I was, and am, happy – and not just happy, not just HAPPY! or HAPPY!, but HAPPY!!!!!! And Wobbin understood. She told Angela that she would keep me. Then she bought more baby wipes, washcloths, toys, food, paper towels, grooming supplies, cat urine odor destroyer….

“You see, as Awesomely Awesome as Tabby’s Place is, there’s no place like home, with your Mommy.”

No place indeed. Robin and June, we have never been happier to have a cat not come to Tabby’s Place. Yet June will forever be an honorary Tabby’s Place cat — and Wobbin will forever be an inspiration.

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