“The Final Countdown” may be your #1 favorite song.
You may enjoy using words like “ergo” and “hence” as frequently as possible.
You may only and always consume day-old bagels (and pronounce them “beggles”).
You may stop what you’re doing every day at noon to pray for the Pope’s sciatica.
You cannot possibly be too peculiar for the likes of Tabby’s Place.
This is not strictly because we are excruciatingly, exquisitely strange in our own right, although that is undeniable. (Exhibit A: we have a cat named Crunchwrap.)
No, this is because we are awesome, full of wisdom and sagacity, and schooled in all that is good and right, ergo we know the truth about strange creatures:
1) Strange creatures are the best of creatures
2) We are all strange creatures
If there’s been a consolation in this strange-in-a-shaky-not-stellar way summer (and there have been many), it’s been the abundance of oddities who have rambled and tumbled our way from all sources. Every cat we welcome is a wonder, but, heavens to Betsy, this summer has been one serious supergroup of Portraits In Strangeness.
Consider the aforementioned Crunchwrap, she of the Greatest Name in Tabby’s Place History. Crinkled and itching and agitating with skin allergies, Crunchwrap is equal parts adorable, tenacious, and titanically odd. It’s going to take the tender care of ten thousand specialists (or two) to treat this crispy girl’s condition, but we have it on unimpeachable authority that skin allergies can be smashed. Crunchwrap only look as far as fellow weirdo Luna for confirmation: life gets better, and less itchy, too.
Then there’s Team Twisted Tail, the inexplicable abundance of cats who have arrived trailing wonky trailage. You have already met the living magnificence that is Coco, she of the twisty legs and titanic tail and infinite oddball excellence. But feast your eyes on Dakota, Alaska and Utah. Some of this bald-tailed bizarrity is simply ringworm; but some of it is something else entirely. The kittens are healthy, happy, and properly horrified by ringworm treatment; but there is no denying they are daft.
(They also came our way with sister Wyoming, who is strange in that she has an utterly ordinary tail. There are many ways to “weird it up” around here, with “being normal” perhaps the easiest.)
How about Flipflop, who arrived with the other Greatest Name In Tabby’s Place History and a pair of legs that just don’t move like the other kids’ do? She’s sweet, she’s silly, and she’s teaching all of us old cats how to do a new dance.
So how are we to account for all this absurdity in feline form?
It just might be the sort of absurdity that straightens us out, slaps us sane, and reminds us that to live is to be odd is to be lovable.
So pump up the volume, kittens. Butter up those aging beggles. Pray with me, and for me, and for the cats who remind us, miracle by mystery by oddity, that we are all splendidly strange.