By request of Oliver, we need to bring back an old-timey expression.
Oliver is not just flirting with you.
Oliver is not just gazing at you as though you are the universe’s greatest achievement.
Oliver is making eyes at you.
Oliver is ten years old on the outside, and ninety years old on the inside.
Oliver has diabetes, but he calls it “the sugars.” Oliver’s favorite movie is Singin’ in the Rain. If you startle Oliver with a kiss, he will exclaim, “golly gee willikers!”
If Oliver wore pants, he would call them “trousers,” and they would definitely have pleats. If you get good grades this year, Oliver will take you out for a nice egg cream at the corner store.
(If you break it to Oliver that the corner store is now a CVS, he will exclaim, “jumpin’ Jehosaphat!”)
And, Oliver’s favorite song is that 1921 banger, “Ma, He’s Makin’ Eyes At Me.”
Be forewarned: if you make eye contact with Oliver, Oliver will make eyes at you.
If you have never been this exuberantly eyeballed, you may feel embarrassed at first. Why is this cat staring at you as though you are the sum total of every sunrise?
Why is he admiring you like your appearance explains why he was born?
Why do you get the distinct impression that this small mammal wants to marry you, carry you over rain puddles, and thank your ancestors for the gift of your existence?
Because Oliver knows beauty when he sees it.
When Oliver sees you, he can’t help but exclaim, “ziggity boom lollipop!” With his eyes.
It’s not because you are attractive, although it is a scientific fact that cat lovers are 95% more gorgeous than other humans.
It is not that you are looking natty today, although Oliver thinks those are some snazzy dungarees.
It’s that you are safe, so Oliver is smitten.
Let the whippersnappers have their thrills. Oliver pursues the romance of reassurance. He has had a century’s worth of drama, and he can tell you: stability is the toot.
Being ejected from your home like a fighter pilot might make for a real whiz-bang movie. But take it from the fella who lived through it: excitement wears off quick when your sugars are high and your sweet head is heavy.
Given the choice between seeing the wonders of the world or looking into one kind face that’s not going anywhere, Oliver would make eyes at you every time.
It’s true; Oliver also makes eyes at his bed, that hairy one that looks like an enchanted coconut. He makes eyes at Beef Chunks ‘n Gravy. He makes eyes at the cats who drowse around him, and his own little body that no longer betrays him.
He even makes eyes at his insulin injection, and the soft hands that deliver it daily. Unflashy reliability is one of love’s loveliest faces.
This means you are in good company.
Oliver only has eyes for old-timey things, like the teenage volunteer who lays on the floor to blink at the cats too timid to touch, or the retiree who remembers where each chin prefers to be skritched.
Oliver makes eyes at the cheeks that lean in to snuzzle his own.
Oliver makes eyes at the eyebrows that rise at the sight of one plain, brown, diabetic cat, as though to shout, “gadzooks and good golly, Ollie is my huckleberry!”
Oliver makes eyes at everyone who lets him be innocent again.
Because he is old-fashioned, Oliver has some memory issues. He is forgetting the frown of fear. He can’t quite remember what loneliness looked like.
What happened in that movie again? He was sick and unchosen? Really? He will have to take your word for it.
He only remembers the good man who would not give up until he was safe. He only remembers the new friends who nearly danced the Charleston the day he arrived at Tabby’s Place.
Faces like yours crowd out old pictures of pain.
Oliver has everything he needs. Now, all he has to do is let himself be loved.
What could possibly be more romantic?
Oliver sees clearly: these are the good old days.
He’s making eyes, and making up for lost time.