Riddle me this: is it better to get a miracle, or never to have needed one in the first place?
Adelaide and I are going with option A. If you’re standing in need of a miracle this winter, you’re sponsoring the right feline.
As you know so well, Adelaide is no stranger to miracles. You’re already familiar with the tale of Adelaide And The Wonderfully Non-Cancerous Nose.
That might have been miracle enough for our appetites. Addy once was cold, and hungry, and wandering with that raw, red nose; now she’s warm, and up to a robust six pounds, and loving life as the cancer-free charmer of Suite FIV. Love is her theme song, her calling card, and her constant calico miracle.
But Adelaide apparently aims higher.
OK, we already knew Addy aims high. Her #1 hobby, above even trilling tiny chirrups and occupying laps for hours, is scaling shoulders. If you’re petite, she’ll leap right from the floor to your shoulder. If you’re Shaq-tall, she’ll swoon with delight as she figures out how to ascend you. (And she will figure it out.)
But back to the business of unbidden miracles. Adelaide took one look at her 2015 record of miracles and declared: “there’s room for one more.”
Now that I’ve spoiled the punch line, let’s rewind. Miracles were the furthest thing from my mind when a certain terrible string of words slipped out our vet’s mouth last month:
“I found a lump under Adelaide’s tongue. It’s not inflamed…but I don’t like it.”
That may not sound like fire and brimstone and 10,000 lumps of coal, but let me translate. When Tabby’s Place’s great Dr. C. “doesn’t like” something, that something is generally…well, death-dealing.
We were talking about oral cancer, generally one of the fastest, fiercest, cruellest kinds of all.
Cancer. Adelaide. For real.
My eyes welled with tears and I retreated to my desk. It wouldn’t be right. Sure, all these months we’d had with our blissfully, bountifully healthy Addy had been a gift, a bonus, pure grace. But still…to clobber the odds only to find a fatal enemy in her tiny mouth? No. NO!
In the fog of foolish grief, I forgot all about miracles.
Fortunately, the One who makes miracles hadn’t forgotten Adelaide.
Dr. C and our vet tech, Denise, scheduled Adelaide for a biopsy of that dastardly lump. Addy was anesthetized; all was ready.
The procedure began. Or, rather, it would have begun…if they could find the lump.
There was no lump left.
If I’m counting correctly, that’s Adelaide 2, Cancer 0.
Life triumphant. Hope born anew.
Christmas coming early to Suite FIV.
Dear sponsors, I’m beginning to get the idea that this exuberant old cat has only just begun to show us the fullness of her joy. As you celebrate the holidays and ring in 2016, know that a certain tiny calico and I are thanking God for you. The best is so yet to come!