Dear Supporters of Bacon,

“His name is Bacon,” staff member Lisa says carefully, as if his mere name is going to have me running out of the room.

I’ve just arrived at Tabby’s Place for my weekly volunteer stint in the laundry room. The walk from the parking lot, for the first time in a long time, hasn’t felt like a trek from the North Pole. March has been a tough month for me to navigate. I like being outside, so when it’s cold and windy and the roads are jammed-packed with snow and ice, it’s hard to remain cheery and bright.

But this morning, some signs of spring—only one week away—are in the air and I can feel the smile on my face, my “maskless” face.

Even though I’ve volunteered at Tabby’s for over fifteen years, as usual, I have to admit I’ve never heard of Bacon. “Boy or girl?” I ask.

“Boy.”

“Well, I’ll have to meet him first.”

That is always my rule. I can’t be a correspondent for a cat I haven’t spent time with. So when I have a spare moment, Lisa walks me over to our Director of Volunteers’ office and tells me all the things that make Bacon so special. We step into the room and stare at a darkened mesh cage. Slowly, Lisa unzips the cage. I lean over and peek in, but honestly, this very special boy is difficult to see in the shadows.

“I’ll take it slow,” I promise, but frankly, I don’t even really know what that means.

After Lisa leaves us alone, I remain sitting on the floor for a few minutes, talking to Bacon softly, introducing myself. Letting him get used to the sound of my voice. Figuring he’ll get curious and maybe move closer to the mesh. I unzip it wider and rest the now loosened mesh on top of the cage, so he’ll have a clear view of the room and I’ll have a clearer view of him.

It works. Within seconds, his face appears. Looking out. Big eyes. Curious eyes.

There you are.

Honestly, I have to control myself. I want to pick him up and let him sink against me as I hold him in my arms. Let him know that everything is alright with the world. But I’ve been paying attention to Lisa, and she’s said enough to convince me that this relationship has to develop slowly . . . very slowly . . . and on Bacon’s terms.

Before I know what is happening, he steps out of his mesh cage.

“Oh, no.” I’m not even sure if he’s supposed to do that. Quickly, I glance up at Marcia, who shares the office with Bacon, and who is warily surveying the scene, watching every movement that Bacon makes.

This can be heaven, or it can be a disaster.

Bacon sees me. He smells me. He brushes past me, and then as he sees Marcia, he tenses up. Here it comes. I imagine this little nymph leaping up in a bold act of confrontation.

But, no. Instead, Bacon meanders over to Marcia’s sleeping digs. He explores, sniffing around, sampling the water and the food. But only for a minute or two. He saunters back, past me, and stops as if he’s about to engage me in some conversation. But, no, he continues back to his own safe quarters and quietly slips inside his meshed cage.

“You are the cutest boy,” I whisper, as I heave a sigh of relief. And I’m instantly renewed.

It’s this little moment with him that saves me for another week. A bit dramatic, I know, but when I leave Tabby’s Place, I feel good about myself and the time I’ve spent there.

Of course, this relationship with Bacon isn’t all about me. I learn that this poor boy had several seizures this month and several episodes of vomiting. The staff describes his behavior as unpredictable. One morning he didn’t want to leave his cozy mesh cage and seemed a bit zoned out, and yet, on another morning he rambunctiously emerged and bit the leg of the staff member who released him. I make a mental note to be on constant alert when I go in to visit. And to take it slow.

In other news, by now you likely know that Tabby’s Place is building an expansion called Quinn’s Corner, for vulnerable cats with feline leukemia virus (FeLV). As we prepare to open our expansion later this year, our need for volunteers increases. Volunteers are a huge part of our operation, as we could not run Tabby’s Place without them.

Beginning in May, we will launch an intense volunteer recruitment campaign to find those willing to give the gift of time and make an impact on the lives of our cats.  If you know of anyone who would be interested in volunteering (perhaps even you!), please let them know we will soon be reaching out with more details. (They can sign up to receive our emails here; scroll down to the “subscribe” box.) There are many types of volunteer duties to fit diverse abilities and schedules.

Thank you, as always, for helping to spread the word about Tabby’s Place!

Bacon and I thank you, most of all, for your continued generosity for the care of our quirky boy.

Enjoy these beautiful spring days!

Your correspondent,
Kate