Joy cannot have cookies.
Joy cannot have crackers.
Joy cannot have crunchies, munchies, or any of the niblets that most cats consider non-negotiable.
And none of this can jolt Joy’s joy.
I know what you are thinking.
More importantly, I know what the cat in your lap is thinking: They would deny a tortoiseshell her treats? These people are monsters, scoundrels, and workers of iniquity. They are a threat to freedom, justice, and protein. They probably smell like pickled beets and dislike Dolly Parton. They must be stopped.
But I promise you: our scandalous behavior is led by love.
Besides, joy is stronger than meat nuggets. (You can embroider that on a pillow, if you’d like.) So is Joy.
Joy was born splendid, even by the supermodel standards of tortoiseshells. Made from orange starfire and espresso mystery, she was the angels’ masterpiece, and they high-fived each other the day she was born: “We done good this time!”
Joy only has a head tilt so she can see the beauty hiding in a crooked world.
You can’t be beautiful without being complicated, so there are curlicues in Joy’s DNA. Although many cats have food allergies, Joy’s are atomic.
This is not a case of getting itchy from an errant snack. This is unleashing a siege of scabby woe from one careless crumpet. If you saw what Joy suffered from the cruelty of carbs, you would not want her to have treats, either.
But you will never see those painful red rashes, because Joy is on the mend. The jewel of Suite J gets to be placid in all of her facets. Bliss is not found in baked goods, but in the daily bread of a normal day. You do not need treats when you’re making a meal out of peace.
Joy can see this, because she has that heavenly head tilt. Isn’t it a rare, radical thing to feel at home in your own skin? Has there ever been a greater beauty than a cat shorn of pain?
What’s the big deal about ham-flavored happiness, when real joy is hypoallergenic?
I know this won’t convince your cat.
We had to host several tense Town Halls to address our cats’ indignation. Willie is apoplectic that any cat, anywhere, should go without nuggets. He thought about going on a hunger strike to protest. He wondered if Time magazine would put him on the cover, like a feline Gandhi, but then dinner arrived and he kind of forgot about that.
Gator reported us to the International Criminal Court, Inspector Gadget, and Guy Fieri. Berry and Peabody are selling kisses for $0.05 each to raise funds to fight Treatless Treachery.
And all the while, Joy just smiles.
Let the snacky and impatient have their salmon stars and tubes of tuna. If it makes them happy, more power to them. Joy will feast on a higher good.
When you have known piercing pain, there is nothing more gourmet than an ordinary day. Happiness leaves you hungry an hour later, but joy abides.
Besides, there’s always wet food.