The first time I met Smokey, I did not exactly meet Smokey.
I beheld Smokey beholding Smokey in the eyes of a beholder.
This is the ideal introduction to Smokey.
Smokey was standing on his hind legs, like a lean grey gentleman at his first dance lesson.
He was not here begrudgingly. He was not here to get ready for a wedding. He was here because he believes in the power of dance.
He was also here because a beholder was here.
Let us call this volunteer Beth, since her name is Beth.
Twinkle-toes like Maurice and Tom were stomping through the suite, but Beth only had eyes for Smokey. Since it was his first dance lesson, Smokey could not lead. Since she was freshly infatuated, Beth could not lead. So, it was up to love itself to lead the dance.
It was one of the greatest performances I have ever witnessed, because nobody was “performing” at all.
When Beth staggered, lovestruck, into the Lobby, I stated the obvious. “Smokey is in love with you.”
“Oh, no.” The beloved and the beheld are always humble. “It isn’t me,” Beth demurred. “I think he’s this way with everyone.”
Far be it from me to contradict a dancer. But I was right, and Beth was wrong. It was absolutely her.
And next time, it will be you.
The impressive and the important may strut the earth in steel-toed boots. But if you stay soft, you will be brave enough to wiggle your toes. If you stay soft, you can step away from your agenda. A lean grey gentleman may put two paws on your shoulders and remind you that you are made of earth and sky.
If you stay soft, you may become a beholder. And on that day, you will become a dancer.
Long before his first dance lesson, Smokey knew how to hold and be held. He was loved in Virginia, carried in arms that could only carry his tune so far. At some point in the story, the footprints get jumbled, and Smokey couldn’t tell if he was looking at Reeboks or rejection. All he knew was that the footsteps grew faint, then stopped.
He was loved, then left, or lost.
He held out hope. He would be seen again. He would! And if seen, then perhaps beheld.
There is a difference, you know. Many busy people probably saw the lean grey gentleman, a skinny silver lining ready to lighten their clouds. Their rods and cones perceived the facts: Feline. Elderly. Has not been offered Lit’l Smokies in quite some time.
But they kept walking, obeying their agendas.
Then the day came when the soft steps came.
Smokey was not just seen, but beheld. A dancer had arrived. Their grace and mercy perceived the truth: Feline. Precious. Will not go forsaken this time.
There are mysterious steps that none but cats and cherubs can trace. Smokey pirouetted up the coast, dizzy and giggling. Could Tabby’s Place have this dance?
Today, Smokey is learning the steps of the loved. It is hard to stay upright when you are astonished all the time. He was not made for the mambo or the meringue.
He is also not made of infinity. There is no plugging our ears to the sound of time. Smokey is elderly, delicate. Lymphoma licks at his ankles. We have moved him to the Lobby, where dancers and treats are abundant. We will redeem every hour we are given. Smokey beholds our love, and we hold back our tears.
Every beholder is the one. He beholds right back, holding the moment as though it were earth’s first and last and best moment.
He beholds you as though you are all the love he ever believed could come true, concentrated in one person.
He beholds until you are both held.
This is how you become a dancer.