Happy June, Royal Family!

We are six days from summer and one hundred percent where we belong: together.

I’m afraid there is a pressing matter to which we must attend. It appears our ladyship has been on the receiving end of shenanigans. Making matters more shocking, the perpetrator is…

…no, no, no, I shouldn’t babble this way. It’s not right. After all she has achieved and overcome in life, Prescott has no interest in speaking ill of others. From the day she came to Tabby’s Place, our moonshadow has been forgiveness on four legs.

She would never hold it against another cat for getting too rambunctious, even if he does keep goosing her and chasing her. She knows he is a (very) big baby. She knows his behavior is the equivalent of a six-year-old in a backwards baseball cap going “Mom! Mom! Mom! Look at me! Mom! I’m a rhinoceros! Mom!”

She knows Hips.

Oh, goodness. I guess I’ve spilled it.

Yes, dear sponsors. Prescott’s bestie, her confidante, the cat we call her “husband,” has been throwing his weight around this month.

The big-hearted bruiser from Beirut has never been what you might call a dignified cat. But some spring fever has Hips harassing every cat in sight … even the love of his life.

Prescott, true to form, rises above the rowdiness. She speaks her mind with a single, unmistakable expression, no hiss needed. She walks away. She goes high, by which I mean scales the front desk and takes shelter next to Receptionist Sharon.

But sometimes, she sighs.

I mean this literally. On multiple occasions, while Hips is being a rapscallion, I have heard Prescott sigh deeply. Sometimes she looks at me to make sure I caught it. Her eyes, exasperated but kind, say it all. What are we going to do with him? Just keep loving him, I suppose. 

And she does just that, returning to Hips’ side as soon as he returns to … well, I won’t say “his senses.” If “sensible” is a place, Hips has never been there. But whatever planet he inhabits, it is a jolly and well-meaning place, so we will be patient.

Besides, we have been recently reminded that life is too precious to be anything but gentle with each other.

I am saddened to share that Prescott’s Lobby friend Jack passed away in late May. Although he lived with an inflammatory condition that caused him to purr like a wheezy harmonica, we did not expect that Jack would leave us so soon. We are brokenhearted, grateful he was ours and we were his. There is always comfort in Prescott’s presence.

And our Queen knows when she is needed. Time and again, she will stop what she is doing, even turning around halfway down the Quinn’s Corner hallway, to sit and simply be with a person in need. I am convinced Prescott can feel the weight of a heavy heart. She knows she was sent as a healer.

At least, that is part of her purpose. Our diamond has more facets than tabby stripes. And another of Prescott’s purposes is … Party Protector.

This came to our attention when Jonathan stationed a camera in the Lobby this month. The intention was something noble, like determining who was having an upset stomach overnight. But our cats saw a better opportunity.

This was their chance at a reality television show. They were all about to be famous. They were about to become influencers. They were about to get a paid partnership with Boar’s Head as provolone spokesfelines.

They were … about to get in trouble.

I cannot describe what went on in the video, at least not visually. I can only tell you that sounds of thunderous chaos abounded. Judging from the audio, we have reason to believe the cats invited seventy-seven orangutans and twelve wildebeests to Tabby’s Place. As they say, something went down.

But we will never know who did what, because someone tampered with the evidence.

The Party Protector sat directly in front of the lens, so the entire video was a close-up of silver tabby fur.

Have you ever been so proud of our girl?

Dear sponsors, it is all because of you that Prescott’s problems are limited to Hips and hijinks. Our girl is positively thriving, free from pain and fear.

If summer finds you a bit more free yourself, Prescott and I would sure love to see you (contact me anytime).

In the meantime, may June fill your hearts with joy. Thank you for being Prescott’s devoted, generous, rockin’ royal family.

Love, your correspondent,
Angela