Dear Supporters of Bacon,

I hear the most delightful news when I show up, as usual, on Monday morning. A volunteer tells me that, at a recent Tabby’s Place Open House, she was posted as a tour guide in the hallway outside of Bacon’s room.

Everyone is interested in the story of this boy with his unique advanced needs. Many peeked in the window to see him!

Bacon doesn’t get a lot of outside visitors, since it’s not in his best interest given his delicate condition. But, he is loved by so many, especially his sponsor-friends (you!).

Now, as you know, Bacon has a lot of issues. Sometimes when I arrive, he’s fast asleep and hardly knows I’m there. At other times, he shows me the prickly side of his personality. Sometimes he loses patience because, try as he might, he can’t get a treat into his mouth. It slides along the floor or gets lost in his bedding.

But today, when I arrive, something is different. He’s sitting in his house, looking out into the room, and immediately throws out a boisterous meow when I walk in. Since I know him to be a highly sensitive guy, I move slowly and lower myself down about two feet away from him.

He comes right over! That’s the first shocking thing.  It’s as if he’s waiting for me to visit. He sniffs the bottom of my sneakers and then looks me right in the face, as if to say, “I know you.”

Some snacks are scattered on the floor. I retrieve a few and let him smell them. First, I let him eat out of my palm. Then, I put a few on the floor, and he scarfs them right up. I feel like I’m in some beautiful dream where everything is going right.

“Hey, buddy, do you want a few pets?”

It’s always a risky business to get too close to Bacon. But this time, he saunters closer. I reach out under his chin and gently, oh so gently, run my fingers back and forth. He lifts his head up and sways a little.

I feel good, and he looks like he’s feeling good. We spend a few more minutes in contact with each other, and then he unassumingly walks across the room for some water. I continue the conversation.

“What did you think about the blizzard?” I ask, wondering if his life was affected at all. I know that staff had to stay overnight twice in February to keep the cats fed. Did Bacon notice anything different?

He turns around and eyes me suspiciously. “What blizzard?”

“Never mind. I think we can call this a good day,” I announce, beaming as I slowly open the door and leave, as Bacon continues to slurp up water.

In other news, you may remember that Bacon was recently experiencing more seizures. The good folks here at Tabby’s Place realized he wasn’t eating all his food on a day-to-day basis, which was where his meds were.

But that is no longer a concern! His appetite is back to normal.

Thanks, as always, for your continued support. Bacon is living the best life he can because of your loyalty and generosity. See you next month.

Your correspondent,
Kate