Dear Bacon Supporters,

On New Year’s Day Tabby’s Place is down to a skeleton crew of employees and volunteers. Most volunteers have arrived extra early, and I’ve arrived earlier than that, wanting to spend some extra time with Bacon.

I unzip his house and peek in. He’s sitting there, rather contentedly, and I assume he’s contemplating what most of us think about on New Year’s Day—what to put on that dreaded list we fondly call our New Year’s Resolutions. Exercise more. Eat healthier. Read more. Watch less trashy TV. All are designed to make you a better person.

“Are you worried about your New Year’s Resolutions? Remember, resolutions are things to make your life better,” I tell him, prepared to give him some suggestions if he’s stuck.

He doesn’t meow right away. Instead, Bacon hops out and does his usual jaunt around the medical office. A slow and steady circle, as if he really is considering what he can do to make his cat’s life better.

He returns and jumps into his house. “How many do I need?”

Now there’s no official number, but I figure three sounds like a good amount.

“I need some time to think,” he meows.

That’s a good sign. “Okay, I’ll come back later.”

When I return, Bacon is fast asleep on a mega cat bed underneath one of the desks, which I learn is a recent addition to his living arrangements. He looks like an angel. Suspicious, I wonder—did he forget all about his resolutions or did the hard work of thinking about them just exhaust the poor kid? But then again, does Bacon really need New Year’s Resolutions? I get up to leave when I hear a faint meow.  “Hey, you’re awake.”

He’s got the three resolutions waiting for me: I will get more sleep. I will eat more snacks. I will spend more time playing with mouse toys.

I don’t know what to say. My own words come back to me—resolutions are things that will make your life better. He’s got me. Cat resolutions are nothing like the resolutions that I make in my life.

“Perfect. Those resolutions are perfect. Good job.”

Bacon rests his head on his paws. He’s about to put his first resolution into effect. I lean over and begin to pat his face. I caress the top of his head. “You are such a good boy. And I predict you’re going to have a Happy New Year.”

He sighs and settles in for a good long nap. Ah, the life of a cat, and although it’s not without its stresses and strains—Bacon was observed having two seizures this past month—all in all, this kid has it pretty good.

As the New Year begins, with all its promise of renewed hope, Bacon and I thank you for your continued generosity and wish you a Happy New Year.

Your correspondent,
Kate