There are various things you need to thrive each day.
You can get your riboflavin and selenium and calcium from Centrum. But for a certain vital element, you’re going to have to come to Tabby’s Place.
For some reason, Miriam’s name is often misspelled “Mirium” on paperwork here at Tabby’s. Maybe there’s meaning in the misnomer: spelled that way, she sounds like a vitamin…and Miriam’s presence is clearly a needful thing for one’s health.
Our classy girl is as delightful as you’d expect for a cat who’d led a charmed, well-loved life. Ay, but there’s the rub; Miriam has seen sadness no cat should know. Adopted from Tabby’s Place years ago, she was recently returned, older and sadder, for reasons we don’t entirely understand.
But no matter. Once a Tabby’s Place cat, always a Tabby’s Place cat – and Miriam has wasted no time in making herself a most essential element in Suite B. As gently loving as she is lovely, she’s a bigger part of your balanced happiness than all the riboflavin in the world.
Not that Miriam is completely without after-effects from her trauma. Every once in a great while, she shows signs of being a grizzled veteran of tough stuff. (“Grizzled:” a term that is found flattering by exactly zero females of any species.) When I most recently visited our vital girl, Miriam had sequestered herself in what I can only describe as a spider hole.
Plenty of cats lounge in hidey holes. Plenty of cats nestle in tight nooks. Only Miriam makes them look like WWII bunkers.
But don’t let her wild eyes mislead you: Miriam is more magical than miffed at humanity, despite our species’ muddled track record. Like most cats, she’s endowed with an ocean-deep capacity to forgive.
And for whatever brief period we have with her before her true forever adoption, we’re blessed – and nourished – by this tough, tender tabby girl.