Whether you are an action hero or an armadillo psychologist, your day will come.
There will be no mistaking it.
You will be asked to stick your neck out.
The cause may be as noble as freeing the downtrodden, or as humble as reaching the last Spaghetti-O in the can. You may be asked to speak truth to power, or to request “Mambo No. 5” on the radio.
But if you are the leading legend of your generation, you will be asked to tabby.
“Tabby” is not only Earth’s greatest noun. If you are brave enough, “tabby” is a verb.
“To tabby” is to believe that kindness is around the corner. If not this corner, then the next. Or the next.
“To tabby” is to trust there is no end to “nexts.”
“To tabby” is to assume that someone left a sausage patty unattended somewhere.
“To tabby” is to be a lot like Jean Claude.
We do not know what came between Jean’s long neck and “next.” We met him on the far side of a sharp corner, his brown stripes torn open. (There are photos. I will spare you.)
His flesh was red and angry. His spirit was calm as a guru.
Jean Claude had tabbied against unseen forces. Jean Claude’s tribulations had tabbied him into our arms. Jean Claude tabulated his experiences and declared himself the winner.
Jean Claude congratulated us on being the runners-up. (Our prize: friendship with Jean Claude.)
Like Frodo Baggins, Wonder Woman, and Captain Crunch before him, our hero does not boast of his deeds. All he will say is that it was worth it.
It is enough to find his place among the archetypes. He is the Luke Skywalker of the suburbs. He is the Incredible Hulk of New Jersey.
He is humble about all of this. Wisecracking and beefy, Jean Claude is sick of talking about himself. He would much rather hear about you. He tilts his deli-ham head to appreciate you from every angle. He widens his eyes, whether you are yammering about traffic or confessing the time you did not return your grocery cart to its station.
Jean Claude is the friend who genuinely cares that you once wanted to be the ice cream man. Jean Claude is the friend who knows you still want to be the ice cream man. Jean Claude is the friend who will secretly submit your application to Ice Cream Persons International.
Jean Claude will tabby you.
You may try to keep coming back to his history. Yes, yes, the rumors are correct; he did something that changed the world. It’s true, he would have shown up at Tabby’s Place covered in medals if he wasn’t covered in wounds.
But Jean Claude prefers his scars to gold stars.
Not only do they make him a top candidate to be cast in The Expendables 4, but they make other heroes feel at home.
Jean Claude has never seen a neck without scars.
Our injuries may not be visible. We hasten to burn the diary entries. We stop sticking our necks out. We acquire turtlenecks in every color to protect ourselves. We quit the quest.
And then we slink into a cat sanctuary and let an action hero tabby us.
Jean Claude knows what he is up to. He knows what is happening when he bulldozes his Belgium-sized head into your arm. He will not unmask our wounds. That is not what heroes do. He will simply love us, until we wonder if we are lovely.
He will take the risk that we will not make the time to cuddle him. He has been picked up and put down before.
He remained buoyant through bandage changes, and warmhearted through wound care. He has read enough to understand that the hero’s quest passes through shadows. But somewhere, next or next or next or next, there is light.
Possibly also pastrami.
But mostly light, and the tall call to tabby.
Jean Claude will never tell us how he got his wound. He will never ask how we got ours. But he will teach us to tabby, if we let him.
It is the mark of a legend that his love leaps into other lives, touching the next and the next and the next.
It is the mark of a tabby that the healed becomes the healer.
It is the mark of a hero to stretch until he sees the kindness around the corner.
Even if he would look terribly handsome in a turtleneck.