Merry Christmas, Tabby’s Place family everywhere.
You may be tucked between grandchildren under twinkle lights.
You may be eating Cheerios, alone but peaceful.
But wherever you are, if you love someone just the way they are, you have the gift.
Tabby’s Place treasures a gift the world can’t always see. It is not a rose quartz figurine of Dwayne Johnson, or a fifty-pound hash brown. It is not a Lite Brite or a Lexus.
It is an “ordinary cat.”
It is you, and me, and Rawlings.
You may recall our rugged TNR veteran. Rawlings is middle-aged, and of average size. He is the color of the sky at its most pensive. He is all jowls and feelings.
He is a lot like you and me.
You and I know what it means to be “in the middle.” Our Christmas mornings are neither Thomas Kinkade portraits nor true crime podcasts. We do our best, wash the dishes, and hope our people and animals remember something beautiful.
We hope there is still hope, even if we drop the eggs, burn the cookies, and lock ourselves in the bathroom to cry for just a minute.
But we have the gift: we find our place among ordinary cats. We see them, and they see us.
By the world’s logic, Rawlings should have been invisible. What is one stray cat, common as bread? Save the carols for the angel food cake. Reserve the ribbons for blue-eyed kittens.
To make matters worse, the only things to set Rawlings apart were his needs. The world does not roll out a wonderland for cats with FIV, chronic rhinitis, and empty paws.
But Tabby’s Place is a world within a world. 
Long ago, some mischievous cherub snipped certain words out of our dictionary, and we have been peculiar ever since. We are unfamiliar with “ordinary.” We can’t pronounce the word “impossible.” We are failures at “forgetting” anyone. We’re pretty sure “the middle” is actually “the heart.”
Rawlings came to us empty-handed, snuffly-nosed, and fearful. His wish list was humble: “eye surgery and survival, please.”
But soon, his striped arms were full. He received friends of two species who found him mushable and majestic. He received care for body and soul. He received squeeze-chicken, hand-fed while people gazed all googly into his eyes.
He inspired an enormous cardboard statue of himself. (I told you we are peculiar.) It is twenty times the size of his physical body. It is a mere fraction of his actual size.
He received the wild rumor that he was the gift.
And then, he received the gift that never ends: Rawlings was adopted by someone who loves him without limit. Every ordinary day has become the best day of the year.
We will call Rawlings’ adopter “Devotion.” Please ready your tissues before you read Devotion’s words:
“Over the past 9 months, ‘Roro’ has gone from skittish and reserved to playful, curious, and affectionate. All day, he follows me from room to room, and will either sit in the doorway or stand at my feet and meow at me in his cute little way.
“He’s an excellent communicator, and knows just how to remind me when dinner’s late (though he’s not the best judge of time). Most evenings, he sits with me on the enclosed porch. He likes to loaf on the mat and keep an eye on the rabbits and neighbors. 
“His favorite treats are those little Churu ‘gogurts,’ and I don’t know how I’d have made it through 3 ear infections without them. His vet wants to remove the rest of his teeth because of his stomatitis, and is hopeful that the ear infections will clear up for good once that’s all done!
“Whenever we have company, Rawlings likes to preside from the living room doorway — it gives him the perfect vantage to keep an eye on everyone, and it’s conveniently close to the bedroom, in case he needs to make a break for his hiding place under the bed. Although it takes a day or two for him to warm up to strangers, his curiosity tends to get the better of him. He’s very social, if only from afar!
“Roro has started getting the zoomies, and he’s figured out the cat flap! He’s so sweet and curious, and I swear he understands every word I say to him.
“Names he answers to: Rawlings, Roro, Bug, Buggins, Buttons, Cuddle Bug, Bugs Bunny, Bunny Rabbit, Little Rabbit.
“Favorite hobbies: Porch sitting, People watching, Getting into the laundry room somehow, Contemplating the bathtub, Attacking the sofa, Investigating all my craft projects, Sitting in doorways, Receiving chin scratches.
“Rawlings is an extraordinarily special cat. I don’t just mean that he has the sweetest round face (though he does) or that his belly is softer and warmer than fresh bread (though it is).
“In addition to his other qualities, Roro is chronically ill, and has enough diagnoses to fill a bucket — suffice to say that his new vet was amazed to see such a hefty patient file. I adopted a chronically ill cat because I wanted my pet’s disabilities to match my own, and I doubt I’d have been able to do this if it wasn’t for Tabby’s Place.
“Strays like Rawlings are not often treated like they are special — if they are ill, it doesn’t matter how sweet and round their faces are, or how soft and warm their bellies are. It takes a special place to care for a special cat, and when you support Tabby’s Place, you’re giving cats like Roro the love and care they deserve. 
“Whenever I hear Rawlings’ sweet little meow, my heart fills with gratitude for our Tabby’s Place family — whether you’re in that family as a blog reader, a volunteer, a donor, or an adopter, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”
We shall never, in ten thousand Christmases, be able to thank you enough, Devotion.
You saw the truth: Rawlings is not average. Rawlings is not ordinary. Rawlings is the gift every day of the year.
Dear Tabby’s Place family, I want to give you the same gift Rawlings received. I want you to know there is hope for everyone: you, and me, and all the ragamuffins of the Earth. I want you to forget the word “impossible.” I want you to answer to all the names love calls you.
I want you to believe outrageous things from “ordinary” mornings.
I want you to remember Rawlings and every “ordinary” cat.
Merry Christmas, Tabby’s Place family.
All photos courtesy of Rawlings’ radiant adopter, Devotion.