It happens.
It happens, and it happens, and it happens.
It happens, and it happened, and it will happen again, as long as we are brave and outrageous.
Never bet against the brave and outrageous.
Those are not the adjectives a casual observer would pin to the quaking cats of Suite I. Far less would such a cynic shout, “adoptable!”
Huddled together like the last oats in the bowl, Suite I’s bashful friends flaunted no medals. Motherly and muesli-hued, Audrey did not vaunt her valor. Beirut’s trembling tangerine, Sky, did not belt solos.
Tremble honestly, and you’ll stay out of the net of expectations.
Shy cats are the liveliest butterflies.
A child of the country, Audrey came to us from a forgotten farm. There was flour on her apron and crinkles around her eyes, semi-feral stories filling her secret journal. She was soil and survival, salt and light. She was Meemaw’s hand-written cookbook, down-to-earth and dotted with butter.
She was FIV+. She was fearful. She was fourteen or so.
She was not so sure about us. We were smittenly certain about her.
Land at Tabby’s Place, and you shall be loved in the gap between your “is” and your “ought.” While the callous observer might call Audrey unfriendly, we called her family. Where haste and hustle would grab at her gemstone fur, we gazed with unhurried eyes.
Where expectations would pout and push, Tabby’s Place waits and adores as-is.
And so it happens.
The old farm woman glimpsed her reflection in our eyes. Was she seeing things? Was that a butterfly in the mirror? Or a kitten? Could it be?
But she was aged and infected, cautious and concerned. What manner of love was this, to be accepted with no concern for being “acceptable”?
Audrey pondered and mothered. The calico centurion became den mama to Suite FIV’s shy guys, kindergarten teacher to big-hearted hoodlums. She sniffed the air in vain for impatience. No one was pushing her. No one was molding her in “adoptable”‘s image. There was a severe shortage of cynics.
She fluttered her wings.
She bumped into the Sky.
And so it happened.
Among Cats Who Love Cats (CWLC, LLC), Audrey is CEO. But even when your heart is a castle as wide as the species, your throne room is sacred. Even when you are Audrey, the storybook who shelters every tail, you dream of a personal “happily.”
Even when you are ancient, it happens.
The Sky-light opens, and a dream makes you new.
Audrey’s dreamboat had Atlantic salt on his feet. Born in Beirut, broken by a fall from a balcony, Sky traveled light years to Tabby’s Place. While Audrey’s ears remembered sparrow song and bluegrass, city Sky startled at sirens.
All they had in common was FIV, cavernous caution, and the “hopeless situation” highway to Tabby’s Place.
They met mid-air.
They never landed.
Country and city braided their tails. Age and infinity burrowed in each other’s necks. New Jersey and Lebanon laughed at distance.
Audrey heard her own laugh. Audrey opened her secret windows. Audrey let love land all over her.
Audrey and Sky became a two-headed cat, inseparable as grace and mercy. Chicken Nugget officiated their wedding. (He got his M.Div. online.)
Eight legs of courage dared to trust without question. There would be no cost-benefit analysis, no spreadsheets or squinted eyes. Love had come; love was here; love was as fragile as life.
Audrey and Sky were alive.
Audrey and Sky, cynics would remind you, were “less than adoptable” on their own. Shy cats with FIV learn not to enter contests. When you have fistfuls of years in your pockets, you do not expect bouquets.
But now they had the blessed burden of one another. Adoption would mean a double improbable. Besides: they had found each other. That was miracle enough.
When you are brave and outrageous, there is no such thing as “miracle enough.”
And so it happens.
The adopter did not arrive from Atlantis or Pandora, Eden or the moon. An ordinary earth bird like you and me, her only secret was an open soul.
When your soul is open, you must accept certain consequences. An unauthorized miracle may zip through the window. A jolting story may scrawl itself down your arm, dotting question marks with hearts.
A pair of timid, married, FIV+ cats may declare you their person.
It happened.
Audrey and Sky, adopted together.
Audrey and Sky, embraced forever.
Audrey and Sky, brave and outrageous.
It happened.
It happens, and it happens, and it will happen again.
Never bet against Tabby’s Place cats.
Note: All photos taken by volunteer A, an absolute legend and one of my lifetime heroes. She earned Sky and Audrey’s trust when they were deep within their cocoons. She believed in them before they believed in themselves. Her belief in each of our cats is big enough to save this whole lumbering universe. That is a fact.