Dear Supporters of Bacon,
Visiting with Bacon on a regular basis isn’t easy. Even seeing Bacon isn’t easy. Oh, I know where he is all right. I walk by Karina’s office every week when I show up at Tabby’s Place to volunteer. And it’s no trouble to stop and peer in the little office window. But I don’t know why I do it. Am I expecting a miracle? Am I expecting that Bacon will be out of his comfy mesh cage, chasing one of his toys around the room, or hanging out with Marcia, shooting the breeze, meowing the morning away?
I should know better. Marcia is usually lounging around like a beauty queen on one of the upper levels away from Bacon.
And Bacon–for his own good–is usually ensconced in his private villa.
So my visits with Bacon are always an adventure and never easy. I first must fumble with the latch on the white gate in front of the door to Karina’s office. Then I have to carefully open the office door, hoping that Marcia hasn’t caught wind that I’m about to visit. She’s been known to leap over the gate (as soon as the door opens) in her efforts to escape. Luckily, on this particular visit, she only stares at me as I cross the room. I pet her gently, but she’s noncommittal as if she knows she’s not the one I’m here to see.
I’ve thought about how I’m going to approach Bacon this time around. Open up his mesh cage. Take a few photos. Let him get used to me. Sit down on the floor. Don’t make any sudden movements. I’m rehearsing all these thoughts as I slowly unzip and then fling the mesh aside. Bacon is calm, almost serene.
I move incredibly slowly. I could be a statue in fact. I watch, almost fascinated, as Bacon gets up, stretches, and slowly leaves his cage. He comes right up to me. His face is inches from mine. He sniffs. Then he turns and walks around me, as if I am, indeed, a statue placed inconveniently in the middle of the room. He is exploring, sniffing, and looking around. He discovers some food and eats.
So far . . . so good. An alarming thought jumps into my mind. Marcia. I glance up. She’s no longer lounging, but instead is sitting upright, watching Bacon, her eyes getting bigger by the second.
Suddenly, there is a bit of a commotion outside. The volunteer who is assigned to clean Karina’s office is moving her cart around outside the door. It squeaks. Bacon freezes and stares at the door.
I know what’s about to happen. She’s going to come through that door, expecting Bacon to be inside his cage. Because she needs to clean Karina’s office.
I leap up. Quietly. Stand there. Waiting. Sure enough. The door creaks open . . . and I spring forward. Well, you can imagine what I say. “Five minutes. I’m going to need five minutes,” I carefully explain to her. Of course, I’m being totally optimistic because I have no idea how to get Bacon back in his cage. Without touching him.
But at least for now, the crisis is averted.
I heave a sigh of relief only to realize that Bacon is staring at me. It’s my move.
I try toys. Throwing a ball. A stuffed animal into his cage. Hoping his curiosity will compel him to follow the bouncing ball, the animal that has landed, but no.
Food. I slide a small dish of food across the floor and place it in his cage. He tilts his head. And slowly begins his march back to his villa.
Finally. Bacon is halfway through the villa’s door and I am close behind, my fingers on the zipper, ready to gently close it from behind.
All is well. Marcia repositions herself.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I tell her.
She smiles enigmatically. “You don’t live with him.”
Ah, the secret life of cats.
On the 19th and 20th of April, Bacon suffered several seizures. One was unusually long. During the other one, Bacon was unusually vocal. The staff at Tabby’s Place always monitors these seizures and notes them down when they happen.
On another note, Bacon and all of us at Tabby’s Place would love your help in expanding our family—with volunteers! Last month I mentioned our need for additional volunteers as we prepare for our Quinn’s Corner expansion, which will open later this year. From cleaning to feeding to delivering tender affection, volunteers make a huge impact on our cats’ lives. If you have a heart for cats, we have a role perfectly fit for you at Tabby’s Place.
If you, or anyone in your own “family” of cat lovers, can come aboard, please visit our volunteer page, submit a volunteer application or contact our Director of Volunteers, Karina Jewitt, at kj@tabbysplace.org. Volunteers must be 12 years or older, and a parent must accompany those under 16 during their volunteer shift. Please share this opportunity with your loved ones! And if you live a bit too far away to join us in person, know that you are still very much “right here” with us through your generosity . . . and we are so grateful!
Bacon and I wish you a lovely spring. See you next month.
Your correspondent,
Kate