If you could see the face of everyone you have yet to love, would you want that preview?
If you knew how much love would ask of you, would you choose it anyway?
Love is the ambient temperature at Tabby’s Place, but there are mornings when fever runs wild. It catches us off guard, no matter how many times it happens.
Every time is the first time.
Never before had we known a Calzone.
It was a no-name Monday when the order arrived. It was one of those days as ordinary as oatmeal, when you can’t remember if you took your vitamins. There were cat foreheads to kiss and insulin to administer. There were breakfasts to distribute and replacement breakfasts in the event of inferior flavors. There were donors to thank and towels to tumble-dry.
It ceased to be a Monday when the order arrived.
No one had called for a Calzone, but the friends who change your life are never part of the plan. All we knew that he was here, all toasted stripes around a melty heart.
His file said “head trauma.” His face said “buongiorno!” His eyes, although red and painful, smiled, as though it were morning on the Mediterranean.
The cat had been hurt. The cat was in pain. But the cat would not stop rolling in our love, kneading invisible focaccia with his paws. When warm arms appeared, Calzone curled into the smiley shape of elbow macaroni.
He had not read the menu that said “Breakfast Special: Severe Injury.”
He could only read the room, a humble Hospital turned into the Riviera. He saw himself, cherished.
We were all being changed before our very eyes.
Calzone hardly heard his new name over the sound of his own purrs. But you don’t need to know your name to know that you have been named. When you have been named, time melts into eternity. When you have been named, you can face anything.
One hour before, we had never seen the face of Calzone. Our world was smaller, colder, drier.
Looking back, we can follow the mystery like a trail of marinara. One “ordinary” suburban tabby was meant to be ours. He is as common as cardboard, and as mysterious as the moment a stranger becomes a friend.
If you’d told us ahead of time that “a cat with head trauma will need your help,” we would have all said, “of course! We shall help him!” If you’d sent us Calzone’s face in a locket, we would have all wanted to wear it.
But we could not have imagined how much, or how fast, we would love him.
You can never prepare for the stranger who becomes a part of you.
“Need” is the only passport to Tabby’s Place. We know our cats will arrive in garlicky knots of pain. We know that, when they do, we will not have time to fund-raise.
When we see their faces for the first time, we must be ready, already.
That’s what we do in the noisy kitchen called the Linda Fund. Last year, we asked you for the ingredients for this year’s “yes.” You showed up with tomatoes of tenderness and the olive oil of unconditional love.
You adored cats in advance, rising up for friends with faces you had not yet seen.
And on an ordinary Monday, a year later, your love saved Calzone.
Your 2023 donations funded Calzone’s stay at the emergency hospital. Your kindness became intensive care. Against all odds, our friend survived to learn how much he is loved.
One minute, it was a Monday; the next, a step out of time.
A cat need not be known for long to be loved entirely.
Calzone did not need to “earn” his name or his place at this table. Calzone will heal from the trauma that melted into the best day of his life.
(Calzone, surprising no one, has just been adopted.)
We will never be the same as we were before that Monday.
It’s all thanks to you.
And as a scrumptious thank-you gift…here’s Calzone in his forever home. To absolutely no one’s surprise, his phenomenal Dad utterly adores him, and vice versa.