Welcome to The Life Of a Lanky Boy!
I have the honor of having Rocky as the fourth of the most needy cats in my care. Abby, Bianca, and Patches have come and departed before him and I am dedicated to doing my part for the Tabby’s Place mission of saving cats from hopeless situations.
Rocky is certainly among those in hopeless situations.
For Rocky’s introductory post, I’d like to give a quick insight into his mindset and rewind a bit to April 5th, 2024, the day that everything shook around us in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. There’s a reason for this reference.
From Pennsylvania to New York and beyond – it all shook.
A quick check-in: the residents of Tabby’s Place were unbothered, even if they noticed it.
And here’s how Rocky handled it. Here’s the reference.
Rocky was curled up on a soft blanket. He was asleep. As the ground beneath began to wobble, he did not care. The shake slithered and wiggled its way up buildings and streetlamps and trees. Rocky remained asleep.
Rocky has other things to be concerned about:
- Snacks
- Toys
- Naps
- Snacks (again)
- More toys
- That delicious medicated liquid supplement from Tabby’s Place
- Sunbeams
- (Were snacks mentioned?)
- Naps, but with soft blankets
- Also soft blankets
- To be clear: snacks
I’ve lived in Japan, along the Ring of Fire; I’ve been awakened at 2 AM by the blaring phone alarm of an earthquake warning just as the room begins to shake.
Rocky?
Nah.
He kept napping – even as the tectonic plates beat their drums – he slept. He has more important things to deal with (see aforementioned list).
If you’d have asked him – you’re REALLY just unbothered?
Yep – he’s unbothered. Rocky has more important things to do. More important than an eclipse or the Northern Lights.
We widen our eyes at the happenings around us – the Earth shuddering, the moon’s wide blink, the dance of rainbows in the night sky – but Rocky remained blissfully unaware. Likewise, he is blissfully unaware of the state of his kidneys. He lives with tenacity, dismisses doubts, and goes on smacking the toys out of the cat hammock from beneath it.
Within his body, a pair of raisins wobble and writhe in place of what should be a functioning set of kidneys; they are Rocky’s own earthquakes, moon blinks, and solar flares. They are the internal black holes that will, at some point, open widely enough to join together for the sake of sending us reeling. Rocky does not know this.
The initial conversations about Rocky included uncertainty. Doubt. He was a fistful of months old and we could not answer the question: “Will he turn one?”
He did.
We could not answer the question: “Will he turn two?”
He did.
We consider the question: “Will he turn three?”
Rocky’s birthday hits around this month; we’re celebrating his third birthday for “sometime” in June, because we do not know for certain. June sounds good; June is a good month. The cat who somehow made it past one and past two is turning three. I ponder what fuels him, aside from the list of his priorities, and there was one thing I’d forgotten to add to that list:
His shenanigans.
Rocky is a fan of shenanigans. And as a clown puts his makeup on and takes it off, Rocky is equal in that footing; one moment he is doing something beyond ridiculous, half-hiding or running with invisible rockets attached to his rear. The next, he is sprawled in a sunbeam, toasting his belly fluff, eyes closed in the bliss of warm rays.
The coin is tossed multiple times throughout each day – will it be shenanigans? Will it be time for a plaintive little chirp of a meow to request pets and head rubs? Will it be time to beat the stuffing out of the scratching post and run from one room to another at Mach 5? Will it be time to curl up in a quiet spot for a nap?
The universe is his to hold, reflected in eyes as green as jade and spanning his extraordinarily long frame down to the end of a Capuchin monkey tail.
Welcome to his world!
With great appreciation from your correspondent,
Carrie