It is a pleasure welcoming new cats.
New cats are nifty, awesome and swell.
But old cats have a patina, and a double portion of panache.
And old Smokey has fire that has nothing to do with age.
Smokey is “old” by two definitions.
He has been a resident of Earth since before the formations of N’Sync and the seven continents. He has also been a resident of Tabby’s Place long enough that his “adopt me” profile is buried back on page five.
Cats don’t mind being old, but Smokey minds it less than anyone.
Smokey likes to tell you that milk used to cost a nickel. Smokey asks the teenage volunteers if the youths are still saying “rizz” these days. Smokey wants to take you to the picture show to see that up-and-coming actor John Wayne, who really seems like he might go places.
Smokey is not going anywhere, except perhaps the early bird special for a three dollar Salisbury steak.
“Not going anywhere” is the best way to turn the best kind of “old.”
But Smokey told me I can tell you this: Smokey would be “old” even if he were a kitten. Age is just a number. Time is just a framework. “Old” is all about soul.
“Old” is the strut in Smokey’s spindly legs. He kind of looks like he’s wearing invisible rainbow suspenders. He kind of looks like he’s pretending to be John Wayne. He mostly looks like he can hardly contain all that kindness in six pounds.
“Old” is the elements in Smokey’s splendid eyes. His eyes are beautiful, because they are looking at you. They appear to get bigger every day, because Smokey is attempting to keep everyone he ever loved in sight.
Smokey continues to love new people. Smokey continues to love old people more than yesterday. Smokey’s eyes keep growing. NASA predicts they will cause a total eclipse of the moon in 2026.
“Old” is the sweetness in Smokey’s toes, miniature vanilla cupcakes in search of a party. Smokey paces the Community Room table until he summons a celebration. Smokey has never failed. The party people always come.
They may be volunteers assigned to scoop litter boxes. They may be staff sent to medicate Smokey. They may be the HVAC repair person, who did not realize that today’s client was one hundred thirty cats.
Details do not matter when you are old. People matter. People party. If people do not party, Smokey will teach them.
“Old” is Smokey’s insistence on eminence and immanence. Smokey is certain you are eminent. You are more eminent than all the acrobats, intellectuals, and kittens combined.
Smokey will also help you to be immanent. When you are immanent, you are present. You are not playing with your phone. You are not looking at a cat without really seeing him, while your brain gallops back and forth between the past and future. You are not anywhere but here, from your essence to your ear hairs.
You are here for Smokey, and Smokey is here for you, and if you are really lucky, you can be really, really old together.
“Old” is the optimist cat who gets happy every time he wakes up older, because it means he is still here.
“Old” is the earnest cat who has never been cool and keeps getting warmer by the hour.
“Old” is you, when you take him in your arms and realize he is the hugger, and you are the hugg-ee.
“Old” is aspirational. Fortunately, we have a tutor.
Tabby’s Place is located on top of the world, with old Smokey.
And if you, too, would like to be on top of the world, please celebrate Smokey with a donation to our Remember the Seniors Fund Drive. Now through 6/30, your donation will be doubled for the elderly cats who others forget. But you? You’ve got them embroidered on your heart. Go make Smokey proud. Thank you, dear ones!