I once saw a sign proudly announcing the Independent Order of Odd Fellows.
Whatever that’s all about, it’s odd, it’s proud to be odd, and that is ten million kinds of awesome. And, now, it seems that three of our cats have decided to start their own branch.
This doesn’t mark the first time an AwesomeAdopter has taken three Tabby’s Place cats.
It doesn’t mark the first time an odd cat has been adopted.
It does, however, mark the first time three cats of such spangled weirdness have been adopted together. All hail the Threepeat Family, proud parents of – get ready for it – Greta, Pause and Tiny.
Yes, that Tiny.
Before you read any further, I should warn you: the FDA has not yet approved such high levels of awesomeness in humans. Side effects may include fits of glee, outbursts of happy-dancing and spontaneous urges to become an AwesomeAdopter.
OK, now that you know the risks, read on.
We knew we had some highly-concentrated specialness on our hands when the Threepeat Family first called. They were looking for two cats, preferably of the older, oft-overlooked variety.
Where to begin?
As it happens, we didn’t need to answer that question ourselves, because the cats took care of it just fine. In touring Tabby’s Place and lovingly interviewing our residents, the Threepeat Family found their cats in unexpected places.
Very unexpected places.
Maybe someone sent the Threepeaters a memo that, like with a Chinese food menu, they should choose a cat from each category…or suite, as the case may be.
Perusing the Suite B selections? How about the headstrong, first-to-greet-you, afraid-of-nothing tortie with the history of touchy teeth? That’ll be one order of Greta, please.
On to Suite C? Why not go for the high-spirited, sharp dressed tuxedo with the big round head and the obsession with being adored? Please add a Pause to our tab.
And how about a wild card tucked into your fortune cookie? That’s where things get really awesome.
The Threepeat Family thought they wanted two cats.
We thought Tiny was meant to be an only cat.
But, then again, somebody thought “Battlefield Earth” was a great idea for a movie.
Thoughts can’t trump what’s meant to be.
And so, when the Threepeat Family locked eyes – and hearts – with the big sable brawler of Suite C, all those thoughts went out the cat door forever.
Tiny was their baby…their big, bold baby with a larger-than-life personality.
There was no containing the gleeful giddy downright slaphappy celebration at Tabby’s Place when this odd, excellent trio went on hold to be adopted. I lost count of the number of times someone would learn the news and, predictably, blurt, “Tiny???!!”
And, honestly, it’s been driving me up the wall and out of my skin not to share all of this with you. (And, it’s a fearsome thing to see a person climbing up the wall without her skin. But I digress.)
So why the heck did I wait? If Tiny had to wait to live the good news, I’d have to wait to tell it. One final hurdle stood in the way of his ending his three-year stint at Tabby’s Place.
Somewhere back in ancient history, our vet detected that Tiny had a heart murmur: a mild murmur, but a murmur nonetheless. As if the tough guy didn’t have enough obstacles to adoption, we now had to inform potential adopters of his potential heart disease.
Then, six months or so ago, a follow-up cardiac ultrasound revealed surprising good news: Tiny didn’t appear to have heart disease after all. Yes, he had a big, thick heart, but it was just within the boundaries of “normal,” and seemed perfectly “normal-for-Tiny.”
Still, we owed it to Tiny – and to the amazing Threepeat Family – to tell them the full story. We offered to give our boy another cardiac ultrasound to see if there had been any change or progression in his heart. If not, that would suggest that his heart was normal after all; if so, well, we’d take things one step at a time. The Threepeat Family never even hinted that they wouldn’t take Tiny if he did have heart disease; understandably, they just wanted to know what they were getting into.
Tiny’s ultrasound was yesterday.
Tiny’s heart is big.
But Tiny’s heart appears to be perfectly healthy…and, today, it’s also the happiest it’s ever been.
Tiny is home.
As I write this, Tiny has not yet been integrated with Pause and Greta (who the Threpeaters took home last week). But I’m confident things are going to be just fine. Tiny’s new fam is committed to doing what’s best for their boy (and their girl, and their other boy). They will take Tiny for a follow-up heart ultrasound – just to be extra careful – in six months or so.
As for Tiny’s legendary personality, the Threepeat Family will be gradually weaning the big guy off his Prozac, with the confident hope that he won’t need it now that he only has to share his life with two cats (as opposed to the 14 in his old empire, Suite C).
And what a life they get to share.
Keep an eye on this blog for updates on this triumvirate of Oddfellows. As soon as we get an update – and, hopefully, photos – from the Threepeat Family, I’ll share ’em with you. In the meantime, every one of us Oddfellows/Oddladies/Oddfelines at Tabby’s Place is cheering them on with all our quirky hearts.