Happy October, sweet pumpkins!

Yes, I am quite fond of you. But that particular greeting comes at the request of Wario. I can explain.

You may have heard the enchanting quote, “I’m so glad I live in the world where there are Octobers.” I share that sentiment with every Skittle in my spirit. This is the month when the Northern Hemisphere turns gold and syrupy, children become unicorns and Spidermen, and we all have permission to glue googly eyes on gourds.

But glad as I am that October has arrived, I’m even gladder that Wario has arrived.

Wait, you say. I have been paying attention, and I’m quite certain Wario already arrived.

And to you, I say: correct!

In fact, Wario has already arrived at Tabby’s Place twice. He first came to us in 2014 with a horridly infected paw and a horror-movie attitude. We cured the former and respected the latter, returning him to his well-loved cat colony. He would father no more kittens and limp through no more agonies. Life was a big bowl of candy corn for our happy orange hooligan.

But nine years later, Wario wrote a sequel. Tilt back your seats for the world premier of Wario and Peace: A Hooligan Comes Home. (Popcorn optional. Candy corn recommended.)

As you know, time took its toll on the old Twizzler, and word reached us that our Wario was weak and anemic, with a belly that might benefit from a few all-meat M&Ms. Since Wario was once a Tabby’s Place cat, Wario is always a Tabby’s Place cat.

So it was back home for some Tabby’s Place hospitality. Our vet team tenderly cared for Wario’s medical issues, resolving his anemia and lungworms. The haunted old cat grew flesh and zest, and we watched with delight as a ghost turned back into a real, live cat.

But the oh-so-serious senior had real, live issues. Our crackerjack vet team determined that Mario’s anemia was caused by a condition called Immune-Mediated Hemolytic Anemia (IMHA). His own body was attacking his red blood cells, like something from a poorly-written horror movie. In addition, Wario was wracked with orthopedic issues.

Putting him back outside would be a terrible trick.

Now we’d just need to convince him that life at Tabby’s Place is the sweetest of treats.

Wario has a good gourd, so he’s learning. While he’s not letting us squish him like a circus peanut, he’s begun permitting some staff members to pet him. He was once the “big man on campus” in his cat colony, so we believe these glimpses of bright-orange courage will only continue to grow.

But however long it takes, and however much he needs, all our candles will glow for Wario. That’s only possible because you, dear sponsors, are his generous, patient, personal pumpkins. (He told me to write that.)

You have the kind, candle-lit eyes that see the sweetness in a salty old codger. You have the wise, golden-nougat hearts that know the value of his life. You have the gift of glowing.

Wario’s long Tabby’s Place history hints at an even larger legacy…and the real reason we adore October. This month is our twentieth anniversary of saving cats from hopeless situations.

Back in 2003, Tabby’s Place was an audacious, outrageous idea. Could we really pull this off? Were there enough selfless people out there to love the cats the world forgot? Would the porch lights turn on for our hungry wanderers?

You became a living “yes.”

You astound us even more today than in 2003.

You have nurtured over 4,000 cats, loving each one as though they were the first, last, and only one.

Even one fun-sized feral named Wario.

Thank you from the depths of my soul, beloved sponsors. The best is yet to come.

Much love, your correspondent,
Angela