Happy October, Royal Family!

On the authority of Queen Prescott the Great and Good, I am honored to welcome you to autumn in all its honey-gold happiness. Correction: I am honored to welcome you to Prescott’s autumn.

Yes, the season belongs to the star in the silver stripes. Like the solar system, 100% of the fish in the ocean, and your heart and mine, Prescott counts autumn among her personal possessions.

How else to explain the extra zest in her gallop these days? Although our lady is never one to loll for long, Prescott has been positively meteoric since the mercury began falling.

Is she performing an interpretive dance, emulating the twirling leaves? Is she rehearsing her trick-or-treating, full speed ahead for fun-size sardines?

Or is she simply as happy as the girl who won the costume contest, dressed up as herself?

Prescott is as giddy as a googly-eyed gourd these days, and that has everything to do with you. (She’s also elegant and exuberant enough to give me proud permission to call her a “googly-eyed gourd.” The most regal creatures always celebrate their own silliness.)

Our queen enjoys shimmering good health, breathless shenanigans with her favorite feline hippopotamus Hips, and the dotty doting of all living beings.

Almost.

And here I’m afraid I must report October’s one dirty trick.

Although she is queen of all known and unknown universes, Prescott would have been happy to share autumn with the rest of us. She loves when we snuggle beside her on the Lobby’s orange couches. She accepts every invitation to dance with wand toys and catnip bananas (which appear prominently on her regal coat of arms).

She will stop whatever she’s doing — which is always extremely important — to give you her full attention as you rub your face into hers, cheek-to-cheek, heart-to-heart.

She will even let you express her bladder, an indignity with the small advantage of keeping her alive. (She will shriek a personal rendition of “I Put A Spell On You” whilst you complete this activity, but that, too, is a gift.)

But she will never win the toughest truffle in the lobby.

If Prescott is a Godiva, Olive is a caramel. From 1947. Filled with hazelnuts and also shrapnel.

There is nothing soft about our bawdy tuxedo. Olive may greet visitors with melty mirth, but Tabby’s Place cats and staff expect and respect her sriracha side. We love her for it. She can’t walk, but she can strut. She is the black-and-white bat cookie with a sprinkle of sriracha. She is the six-year-old who wants to dress up as Genghis Khan.

She is lovely and loving and loath to let anyone underestimate her powers.

She is determined not to fall under Queen Prescott’s power.

And so Olive razzes and harasses our swan. She erupts in what I can only assume are expletives. (The sounds from Olive’s mouth make Boobalah blush.) She chases the cat who could outrun gold-medalist cheetahs.

She has no impact on Prescott’s happiness.

Prescott’s happiness, after all, is the best thing Prescott owns (which is saying a lot, since her possessions include your heart, my heart, Belgium, and the New York Yankees). She’s known too many shadows to lose sight of the light. She sees the moon even when it’s shy.

She sees the humor even in Olive’s bad moods.

She sees opportunities to acquire additional lunches. (This is a fact. It is now on the formal daily staff schedule: “Give Prescott lunch.” And you are not seeing things. Our Twizzler-bodied girl is looking more like a pumpkin these days, and it’s glorious.)

And so she gallops, giddy that it’s October, giddy that tomorrows exist, giddy that Hips exists, giddy that she belongs to you, dear sponsors.

And belonging is the harvest we’re all here for, all year, every year.

Prescott was born c. 2022. She came to Tabby’s Place in 2023. This month marks our 20th anniversary of saving cats from hopeless situations. And Prescott’s story is one more frolicking fairy-tale in this impossible novel we’re writing together.

Sweet sponsors, thank you for taking Prescott in your arms as we enter the next decade of life-saving love together. You erased her “impossible” and wrote “unconditional!” You heckled “hopeless” and bellowed “beloved!” You are changing the world with radiant, rebellious love.

Maybe you could talk to Olive?

On behalf of our Queen, thank you for your steadfast, shimmering generosity. Prescott and I love you!

Your grateful correspondent (who will be dressing up as Prescott this year),
Angela

PS: Prescott absolutely loved getting to meet some of her sponsors during our Grand Opening for Quinn’s Corner! (And if you couldn’t make it, no worries; she hopes to meet you soon!) She can’t quite wrap her head around the fact that Tabby’s Place has been saving cats for twenty years now…but then again, who can fully fathom the size of love? Thank you, extraordinary friends, for making all of this possible. The best is yet to come!

Your grateful correspondent,
Angela