I know you have seen my Adopt Me page.
I know, because every time someone touches my photo, my toes tingle. This is true.
I feel it when you put your finger on my forehead and picture me in your life. There is something sweet about her.
I feel it when you take it back. No … never mind.
Maybe it’s because of “how I feel about children.”
I won’t debate my own Adopt Me page. It is as honest as a cat. I am “Not Comfortable” with children.
I am not the cat you can dress in little hats or carry like a teddy bear. Toddlers and thunderstorms sound similar to me. I board up my windows for both. Better safe than sorry, or dressed up as Strawberry Shortcake.
I am not sorry, but I am still sweet. I am as honest as a child. That is why I am writing you this letter.
It is not that I dislike small people, with their fat baby-carrot fingers and their happy voices. It is just that I am not done being a child myself.
I was not an only child, you know. Or perhaps you have forgotten. I understand. Many waves of cats have come and gone since I swept in with the elements.
Our crowded periodic table came crashing down in summer 2024. Over sixty of us survived the chaotic chemistry of a sickly cat colony. Overnight, we went from orphans to Tabby’s Place cats.
But it takes time to become who you are.
Most of my siblings, uncles, and miscellaneous kin have gone on to form new bonds. I’m glad Cobalt and Aluminum and Boron were adopted. It was thrilling to see their lights come on. Love filled their senses, turning all their electrons into dancing fireflies.
Each in their season, they opened their eyes. At last, they opened the “third eye,” that secret place where wisdom lives. They say we all have it, even cats and children, just behind our foreheads.
Right where you touch my picture, and then let go.
I know I am not for everyone. I will not sleep on your little one’s pillow, pressed brow-to-brow like storybook characters. I can’t provide a five-year plan for my kidney condition, or tell you how I got an old cat’s disease at the tender age of four.
Those are adult questions, and I have already been too grown-up for too long.
But I can tell you: I am still sweet. I am telling the truth. I am as honest as love.
I am “Very Comfortable” with cats, because they have always let me be a child. From our hungry days to today’s drowsy sunbeams, cats have been my comfort. I share everything with my siblings. I assume they are all my siblings.
It is safe to be soft when you are with family. Zinc is a soft metal that turns even softer when it is warm.
Zinc is also essential to the human body. I believe I could be essential to the right human.
I conduct experiments at Tabby’s Place. I wear the safety goggles of shyness, but my hypothesis is getting stronger. I appear to be everyone’s cherished child around here. I do not have to fend for myself. Love is administered in infinities, not eyedroppers. I can’t lose all that love, even if I misplace my courage.
Tabby’s Place loves the truth of me, not the idea of me.
I think that may be the most grown-up and childlike thing I can imagine.
So, I will wait for the touch that will take me home. Children are in no rush, and neither am I. Every day is the sweetest day. Everyone here appears to adore me. I assume you are all siblings. This family has room for all kinds of children.
I know you know.
Love,
Zinc