Dear Supporters of Bacon,

When I visit Bacon, I never know what to expect. The other day, I entered Karina’s office and was surprised to discover that renovations had taken over. His shared office was painted and reorganized to become the new Sanctuary Associate Office. The Sanctuary Associates at Tabby’s Place are the staff people that care for the cats on a daily basis. They are trained in administering feline medications and are expert cat handlers. When they are not handling cats, they are working in this office to keep our medical and behavioral records up to date.

At this time in the morning, all was quiet. Marcia was out of her house, sitting peacefully. The only thing missing was a cup of coffee and a breakfast muffin on the table beside her.  The weather outside was typical winter New Jersey weather. Drizzly. Cold. With a prediction that the rain could turn into snow. No accumulation. The kind of day that zaps the energy right out of you.

“How are things going?” I asked Marcia.  She shrugged her shoulders.

I couldn’t tell whether Bacon was home or not. His house was zippered closed. “Bacon, are you in there?”   No response. But that isn’t so unusual. He rarely responds. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him meow. When I peeked in though, he was sitting there calmly.

First things first. I put Marcia back into her house and unzippered Bacon’s house. He looked at me for a minute.  “Well, come on out, buddy.”

Bacon is a sensitive cat. He needs his time alone. His quiet time. But usually, when he has the opportunity to get out and stretch his legs, he moseys on out. Most cats are natural investigators. They like to keep tabs on their environment. They like to make the rounds and sniff, sniff, sniff. That’s exactly what Bacon did.  I watched him go back and forth across the room, into every corner, and figure out who and what had been in this newly designed office space.  He stopped and even said hello to Marcia.

Then he stopped and took a drink of water. I sat on the floor and waited until finally he sauntered back and came unusually close.

I don’t know what possessed me. For the last six months or so, there’s been this unwritten rule—no touching of Bacon. I have touched him, of course, but the petting I’ve done has been a fleeting caress. I’ve always been acutely aware I’m taking my life in my hands, risking that he’ll react. His fear will take over.

But something was different about today. I reached out and let him smell my hand. I stroked his face, his whiskers. I reached behind his head and began petting the back of his neck. He moved his head as if enjoying the interaction. I ran my hand down the side of his body. He has the softest fur.

“Your poor little boy,” I said softly.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcia watching us from her house. I think she was as surprised as I was.  At a certain point, Bacon wandered back into his house. It was his way of saying he’d had enough for one visit.

Later when I let Marcia out of her house, I confided in her that I was sure Bacon’s change in behavior was due to a number of factors.  She looked interested and wanted to know more.  I bet Bacon made a New Year’s Resolution to be a better cat. Friendlier. Calmer.  Marcia didn’t say a word in response. But how could she? No one really knows why we suddenly decide to trust someone. I was glad I finally made some headway!

As for Bacon’s health, he’s been doing quite well, although he is having periodic episodes of GI upset which results in vomiting.

As always, Bacon and I want to thank you for your continued generosity. We hope you can find a way to stay warm and cuddly during this cold cold month of February.

Your Correspondent,
Kate