If you are trying to get somewhere fast, don’t take Berry.

If you are trying to get somewhere sweet, he’s your man.

More accurately, he’s your crumpet, your mini-muffin, your kitten.

He’s your best friend, your biggest cheerleader, your true believer.

He’s your reminder that miracles take many forms, even if some call them “deformed.”

He’s not “supposed to” be here.

In the ordinary traffic of life, little creatures get lost. Busy wheels keep turning. Important people do not have time for orphans the size of sparrows, especially not if their little legs are splayed like wings.

A “deformed” kitten is in double jeopardy. He may be too small to be noticed, too minuscule to matter. But once he is seen, faces turn away. He is too little. He is also too much. He is liable to cause a traffic jam.

You can’t just expect people to stop everything for a cat who was “broken” before he was born.

But if you’re the type to rebel against expectations, come sit with us.

If you are trying to impress this ice-cold world, don’t stop for Berry.

If you are trying to express the love we were made for, he’s your jam.

Berry’s mother did not believe he was beyond hope. Mother cats have a special map. There is not one bungalow beyond hope. Hope is an infinite horizon. Sunrise to sunset, Berry’s mother Mistletoe doted on both of her kittens. Holly had standard-issue legs. Berry had wry, wrenched pretzels that rose up like wings.

The twins were equally precious. They were perfectly formed.

It would have been easy enough to find a haven for Mistletoe and Holly. Some might say it would be best to let Berry … you know …

But you know otherwise. You Cherish the Kittens.

You, dear Tabby’s Place people, are the rebels and rapscallions. You get down low so you can look in those blueberry eyes. You stick a pretzel rod in the spoke of those big wheels. You redraw the road map.

The traffic jam turns into a jamboree. The “deformed” kitten gets a future sweet as jelly.

Tabby’s Place took the whole family. Love does not divide, it only multiplies.

And Berry slowed us down.

Berry got us giggling on the floor, which is where most of the best things in life happen.

Berry was not afraid, because his mother loved him. He will never need to know that his goofy, glorious legs would not fit through most doors. If you have ever wondered what happens when you donate to Tabby’s Place, this is your answer. You open the big door. You make way for cats and kittens who kept hitting roadblocks, simply because of who they are. You stop everything so a “deformed” kitten can live in delight.

He can live, period.

The path ahead will not be swift. Berry’s creative little body is the result of spina bifida. The disease is notoriously difficult to predict, with some cats (such as Tabby’s Place alum Dot) thriving for a normal lifespan, and others (like our Psi) departing young. Berry will need to become best friends with his vet team.

That will not be a problem, since Berry is in the business of making best friends.

There will be problems and jams, but that is true whether or not our knees are bent. What matters is that we get to carry each other. It’s the slow way. It’s the beautiful way.

And although he is scarcely larger than a crumpet, Berry is determined to carry us, too.

Please Cherish the Kittens for Berry.

We are going somewhere sweet, together.

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