Dear Brielle buddies,

It’s the sticky center of summer, and the heat is on. But, true to form, our blithe Brielle is not sweating it.

Physical heat, of course, is never an issue for the Tabby’s Place cats. Brielle’s world is comfortably climate-controlled, and she barely arches an eyebrow at summer storms through her window. But sticky situations of another sort have landed squarely in her Community Room this July.

I’m talking, of course, about kitten season. Since our last update, Brielle’s abode has only become more infested with micro-felines, and it’s got all the other adult cats in a tizzy. Peachy is beside herself with cranky Siamese chatter, and Queen‘s taken to open warfare, hitting the munchkins like a never-ending game of Whac-a-Mole.

But not so our peaceable Brielle. It’s become a wonder to behold, really: every other adult cat in the Community Room either cringes or cranks at the kittens, unable to hide her displeasure at their wildness. Brielle, however, watches coolly, safe in the impermeable peace of her own spirit.

This peace has been put to the test, too — and more than once. Part of being a kitten is learning (sometimes the hard way) what constitutes appropriate social skills around other cats. When kittens grow up with their mama, mom will yowl or pop them on the head if their play gets too rough. When kittens grow up with adult neighbors like Queen and Peachy, they’ll get a variation on that learning experience. It’s all normal and appropriate; the little ones are doing their job by testing boundaries and exploring others’ personal space.

That’s just what they do with Brielle, too. In particular, I’ve seen tiny Yoshino prance right up to Brielle, boldly poking his nose in her face. Like a gentle maiden aunt, Brielle will return the nose-to-nose sniff, allowing Yoshi a few moments of “in-your-face” bad manners before gracefully turning away. On the one occasion when Yoshi pushed it too far, tapping Brielle’s face with a playful paw, Brielle didn’t strike back, but only turned her head and emitted a dainty hiss. The message was clear: I don’t want to fight with you. I wish you all the best. Please just don’t do that. And Yoshi respected her wishes. (That’s one of Yoshi’s kitten compadres, Beaker, pictured snoozing beside Brielle at right.)

Brielle’s graciousness to all species makes it an ongoing mystery why she hasn’t been adopted. Even at the risk of shattering my own heart, I’ve made a point of introducing her to potential adopters (albeit with the disclaimer, “You will make me cry if you take her, but I hope you do anyway”). This month, one visitor was enchanted by Brielle’s ways…at first. The visitor stroked Brielle’s head and shoulders, delighting in her purr…then ventured to pet her little tail.

“She doesn’t really like being touched there,” I cautioned gently. Right on cue, Brielle snapped her head back, motioning to nip without actually doing so. I thought it was a very polite way of saying, “No, thank you.” The adopter, alas, thought otherwise.

“OH,” the visitor sighed. “See, I don’t want a cat like this. I need a nice cat. A cat who will let me pet her everywhere.”

Okay. Different strokes for different folks, I suppose. Still, I can’t help but feel that this adopter missed out on a uniquely wonderful cat. Brielle is as easygoing and loving as they come; all she asks is that we respect her boundaries and love her as she is.

Isn’t that what each of us want from life and love?

Dear friends, thank you for loving Brielle for every iota of her magical self. She is blessed to have you in her life, and she and I wish you a blissful midsummer.