Donate
It ain’t over

It ain’t over

28193392154_70dd9af224_zWere we not, just recently, right in this space, talking of age and dreams and never-too-late ideals?

Were we not talking of beach volleyball, and ageless agility…and Chianti?

Having exhausted our library of Chianti photos last time, I shall hereby pelt you with photos of other cats for whom it ain't over. It ain't over for Francine.
Having exhausted our library of Chianti photos last time, I shall hereby pelt you with photos of other cats for whom it ain’t over. It ain’t over for Francine.

Well, well. Providence has had its way. Unbeknownst to me or you or Chianti, wheels were turning even then. A family was preparing to pick a cat.

An adult cat.
A wonderful cat.
A Chianti cat.

You got it: our not-a-kitten was not overlooked, not this time. Chianti is forever home. (Quoth Bob Costas, “he’s still mighty spry at 6!”)

Of course, we aren’t surprised. Age may not have been entirely in Chianti’s favor, but his soul was. Chianti, of course, had the soul of a cat, a soul species that doesn’t hold onto things. And, when you’re yearning to get a grip on something real, empty hands are the best kind. (Or paws. Or webbed feet. Enter your appendage here.)

It ain't over for Boom.
It ain’t over for Boom.

Chianti, as you know, had been wronged. He had been returned, rejected, rebuffed repeatedly. He did not begrudge a soul. The bad times were a long-ago night at a single seedy hotel, or an ill-advised potato salad that sat out on the counter too long. Why keep stoking rancid resentments? Let them go cold already. Go on with your life and be so sweet that everyone will want to pick you up and kiss your face. (If you’re Chianti, of course. If you’re human…well, adjust that advice accordingly.)

But if Chianti and his kind don’t nurse grudges, neither do they cling to “good old days.” I guarantee you something: Chianti is not ruing the bloom of youth. The perks of kittenhood were swell, but that was then. That was no golden age, either. Sure, he was “more adoptable” by silly human standards, but he was also getting de-wormed and getting neutered and being eyeballed for adorableness as though he were a prize squash at the county fair: “nope, that one’s not perfect enough.” The good old days were no better than these good now days.

It ain't even within 1,000 miles of over for Valencia and Hailey.
It ain’t even within 1,000 miles of over for Valencia and Hailey.

So with empty hands, Chianti happened his way into being held again. Forever.

But lest I leave you with the impression that cats don’t hold onto anything at all, that’s not exactly true. Cats do, in fact, hold onto toys.

Even the old.

Even the exceptionally old.

Even the cancer-fighting, born-in-the-Cretaceous-Period, feathers-and-bones old.

Even Lars.

So take a tip from old and young cat souls, amici: hold today up to the light, and let the rest go. Onwards.

It ain't over for Sally, but if she looks at you like this, it probably is over for you.
It ain’t over for Sally, but if she looks at you like this, it probably is over for you.

1 thought on “It ain’t over

  1. The late summer bloom – Chianti – still young enough to bring wonderful happiness to a forever family. Good luck and love forever to these awesome adopters. What great news!

Leave a Reply