Dear Royal Family,
Queen Prescott and I hope this update finds you having a peaceful and cozy December. In this season of hubbub and nostalgia, Prescott particularly hopes you are being gentle with yourself. Amid all the to-do’s and tenderness, it is OK if you are feeling many different feelings (and if they are not all even speaking to each other). This can be “the most wonderful time of the year,” as the song goes, but it can also be misty with memories and anxious with expectations.
This is why Prescott prefers to spread her holidays out evenly across the entire year. If you’re updating your calendar, take note:
January 1 – December 31, recurring daily: Prescott’s birthday
But Prescott also wants you to mark down the following in pen:
January 1 – December 31, recurring daily: Gala of the Golden-Hearted (that’s you)
Never one to confine celebration to a single day, Prescott hereby invites you to take the pressure off “the holidays” and take it from her: every hour offers a “do-over” for the one before, and there is no upper limit on festivities.
One of Prescott’s favorite festivities from the past month was Thanksgiving with the Cats, Tabby’s Place’s annual November open house. On paper, the event sounds simple: guests are given blue tickets, which they use to “purchase” ketchup cups filled with turkey to feed our cats. There are also cake pops and assorted confections for human types, but “Tabby’s Place people” are always more interested in feeding someone else than being fed. (You are, indeed, the Golden-Hearted … although Prescott hopes you’ll have a cake pop or five, too.)
But things that “sound simple” can be quite profound.
Prescott and her fellow Lobby cats move to quieter quarters during Thanksgiving with the Cats. Although our Queen would be a gracious host, there’s a bit too much tumult in the Lobby during the event, and we wouldn’t want anyone to frolic out into the parking lot. A less jubilant cat might pout about losing her place for a few hours. But, that’s not our Prescott.
Where others see inconvenience, our little lady finds golden opportunities … and the Golden-Hearted.
Sure enough, Prescott’s “quarantine” turned into a coronation. In a smaller room, she was better able to greet her admirers one-on-one, giving each visitor her undivided attention. Since Prescott’s temporary room was not part of the public tour, people only got to see her if they asked for her by name.
Of course, when your name is “Prescott,” there is no shortage of sweethearts seeking you out.
Did you happen to miss this event, dear sponsors? Fret not. (Prescott is rarely sad, but the knowledge of your fretting would bring her sorrow.) Every Prescott Day is a holiday, and every Prescott Day is an invitation for you to lavish her with love at Tabby’s Place. We are open from 12-5, seven days a week (generally speaking, except for those pesky “real holidays,” when we are closed to the public). Please feel free to contact me personally if you’d like a personal tour with Prescott and me.
I’m afraid Prescott’s parade of holidays has been punctuated by some troubling news. I have something outrageous to report. You may want to have a cookie in one hand and a mug of cocoa in the other before we proceed. Go ahead and add some extra marshmallows.
Ready? OK.
This just in from the vet team: “There is a tiny scratch on Prescott’s nose.”
I know what you are thinking. Who on Earth would take a swipe at the sweetest, most beautiful, angelic cat who hath ever lived? Surely it was an accident. It had to be.
But, oh, dear sponsors, that is not the case.
First, there were rumors that Moo Moo (pictured at right), a pastel tortie of heft and majesty, had popped Prescott on the nose. But before we can be too hard on Moo Moo, consider this: she was apparently quite “hangry” at the time. Given that Moo Moo is the size of a sofa and half as aerobic, and remembering that the Lobby has been on treat restriction, we shall absolve Moo Moo.
But then came a more worrisome report. It seems that Rori, the tricolor sensation, has been perturbed by Prescott. On more than one occasion, the tailless tortoiseshell has been picking on our lady.
Rori’s defenders claim that Prescott started it, albeit indirectly. It seems our Queen’s habit of galloping through the Quinn’s Corner doors has been a “bad influence” (can you believe anyone would say this?). Rori and others have been inspired by Prescott to hurtle through open doors, leading to stricter supervision of everyone involved. Ergo, Rori is peeved at Prescott.
It’s preposterous, if you ask me.
But if there is a silver lining in this scuffle, it’s … well, it’s actually a rainbow lining, and it’s shaped like five hundred slinkies.
It was not technically a “holiday” when they arrived. It was neither Thanksgiving nor Amazon Prime Day nor even National Cat Herders’ Day, which happens to be today. No; it was an “ordinary” Wednesday (if such a thing exists) when the team from The Dodo donated five hundred rainbow slinky springs to Tabby’s Place and proceeded to give them to the Lobby cats all at once.
If you have ever wondered what it looks like when everything is forgiven, picture twelve cats experiencing five hundred slinkies together. Better yet, watch it below.
Prescott and Rori have not spoken of their little scrap since, and Prescott’s nose scratch has fully healed. In fact, Prescott’s health is as perfect as the first snow angel of winter, or the smile on the gingerbread man.
As you know so well, it could have been different. There is no “good reason” that one little silver stray with Advanced Needs should reign as Queen. But on this tired and tattered planet, love breaks through. The weary world rejoices.
There is more joy, right here, than we dare to hope.
You give me hope, every day of the year, dear sponsors. Because of you, our Prescott knows a world led by love. Never doubt for a moment that you are changing history through your quiet acts of kindness and your tireless generosity.
May you have a gentle and joyous holiday season, and may you know how dearly Prescott and I love you.
With gratitude and affection, your correspondent,
Angela