Dear Supporters of Bacon,

Since I don’t live around the corner from Tabby’s Place, I can’t visit as often as I would like. I’m usually here only once a week, so my visits with Bacon are limited.

Last month, I learned the hard way that trying to visit Bacon when the other volunteers are cleaning the suites isn’t the best choice. This time around, I made a smarter decision:

Show up. Do your volunteer stint. Then make your visit.

I walk into Bacon’s room having no idea how this is going to work out. Will Lornadoone be out and about, and will I be able to lure her back into her “house” before I let Bacon out? Will Bacon be sleeping and too tired to play? Will Bacon even want to come out and play?

I show up and hold my breath.

Yes! Lornadoone, for whatever reason — miracle time here — is in her house, chomping away, busy eating, so she hardly notices when I surreptitiously close her house door, very quietly. Step one accomplished.

I tiptoe over to where Bacon hangs out. Unzipper his house and peek inside. The cutest face — ever — peeks out at me. Luckily, I’m quick on my feet. I barely have time to flip open the mesh and take a quick photo before out he bounds, ready for action.

“How are you doing today?”

“Okay.”

Bacon circles the room. I plop in the middle of the floor, and he barely notices me, which is a good thing. After a few rotations, he stops to pay a visit to Lornadoone, who has finished eating, with a kind of walk-by sniff. He doesn’t have time to chat or stay for a snack. He peeks in. Eyes what she’s eating. He’s on his way.

Then he comes right up to me and sniffs my knee.

I have two cats at home now, Chuck and Theo. I’m convinced that cats can learn a lot from the smells they pick up. Theo was recently adopted from Tabby’s Place, although to hear him tell it, he swears he was abducted. I guess that’s why I get a bit of a stink-eye from Bacon before he moves on.

I try to engage him in a bit of ball playing. I whip a tiny green ball with a tinkling bell along the floor. Bacon stops, and he almost runs after it, but, no, he holds himself back. Some days, he’s in the mood to play ball; some days, he wants to make these endless rounds of the room.

I scoot over to the bin that has some other toys, but before I can pick out another choice, Bacon is heading back to his luxurious suite.

“Hey, buddy, how about . . .”

“Sorry, not interested.”

“I have this cute, swishy thing…”

“Nah.”

“How about…” There’s a red fish that I think will make a crinkly sound that Bacon might like, but he barely shows interest.

“No, thank you.”

“I get it. You’re a super special boy. And you need your rest.”

Medically, Bacon has been doing better. The seizures he suffered last month are less frequent and less noticeable.

Beyond Bacon’s room, we’ve just hit a milestone! Tabby’s Place welcomed our 4,000th cat, Serendipity, a sweet Siamese mix who gave birth to 5 healthy male kittens in the lap of one of our own staff members.

But then again, your generosity makes history every day at Tabby’s Place.

Bacon and I thank you for your continued kindness, and we hope you have a lovely August.

Your correspondent, Kate

PS: We’ve just launched our annual Linda Fund Matching Challenge, for the emergency and specialty care of our cats. Please share this with your dear ones, as it enables us to save little ones who have nowhere else to turn, and to heal them right in their hour of need. Thank you for all you do for our Special Needs kitties.