Happy October, dear sponsors!

If you love autumn, you are as cozy as a kitten in a cardigan right now. If you worry about winter, you may be diving under blankets until the tulips return.

But if you are a Tabby’s Place colony cat, all the months melt together like maple-syrup mousse.

(They would admittedly prefer mouse mousse, but that is another story.)

We may stare at clocks and calendars, but our newest residents do not wear wristwatches. The fifty-plus arrivals from our colony rescue know just one season: Safe.

Spend your days with the cats, and you’ll find that time expands and contracts. When hope arrives abruptly, there’s a lot of catching up to do.

Scared and salty Salami has been unlearning fear. The world feels different under Triscuit’s feet now that his wounds have healed. And Hummus dipped a toe into trust and found his whole future slathered with hope.

Tabby’s Place is a sort of time machine for these cats formerly lost in space. So, it feels as though years have crammed into the month since our last update.

That is not the only thing “crammed” like pecans into a pie plate. While many of the colony cats are growing in courage, others are … well, let’s just say being brave in other ways.

It takes some sort of daring to squeeze into a Plexiglas tube with a half-dozen of your closest friends. Pictured above are some of our most fearful new family members, hunkered down — or rather, up — in the overpass between their indoor suite and their sunny solarium.

This is not quite the equivalent of you and your high school buddies squishing into someone’s hatchback for an adventure. This is cats comforting each other, breath to breath and whisker to whisker. This six-tailed, twelve-eyed sight is a sort of support group. Their world transformed from despair to hope overnight, but trust takes time. As we convince Cobalt, Hydrogen, Susan, Finale, and their family that we will never hurt them, they will help to heal each other.

This is Tabby’s Place, where every heart has every hour it needs.

While some go slow, other colony cats are pioneers.

Bello was the first to declare that we are in Awesome Autumn. Strutting out into the sky-lit center of his socialization suite, he lavished our laps with his nutmeg stripes and his cinnamon smile. The elder gent with the exceptional ear hair heard the bells of mercy. He was not going to miss a moment of cuddling and canoodling.

From their chosen cubbies, his kin watched and wondered. The old tabby seemed to be rewinding in age, more kitten-like with every snuggle session. Galumphing hordes of humans galloped in to kiss him. Not one of them ate him, chased him, or even attempted to talk about politics with him.

It was worth thinking about.

Among the philosophers is Salami, born with serious eyes and fur the color of a mourning dove. But this marks the one occasion on which grey lunch-meat is a good thing. Salami has a soul deeper than a submarine, and his friendship is heartier than any hoagie.

Perhaps at the influence of Bello and other brave neighbors, Salami said “yes.” Yes, he would loll in our laps and listen to our promises. Yes, he would believe that “too good to be true” is a good description of an ordinary day at Tabby’s Place.

And yes, it turns out that sweet, sweet Salami arrived at exactly the right hour.

When Salami’s upper respiratory symptoms would not quit, we realized we were dealing with more than the lingering effects of life in a sickly colony. The diagnosis was as dire as they come: feline infectious peritonitis, or FIP. Until recently in feline history, this was a certain and brutal death sentence.

But, like I said, Salami arrived right on time.

This year, the FDA approved groundbreaking treatment for FIP. Did I say treatment? Correction: a cure.

A cure, for Salami.

If he’d come to Tabby’s Place a month later, we would all be mourning today. Instead, Salami is sunbathing and lap-cruising in our Community Room, surfing through the meticulous 84-day protocol that will save his life.

I think Bello was onto something about Awesome Autumn.

And so the stories unfold, day by day, in the glow of your love. Dear sponsors, you are the hearth and home for these bewildered, beloved cats.

Each time one of them feels their worth, you are here. Each time a cat closes his eyes to savor a good meal, you are here. Each time the sneezing stops and health revives, you are here.

Your astounding generosity is the only reason we could take on this unprecedented project. You will be with each of these cats for the rest of their lives … even as they leave us for even sweeter seasons.

As I write these words, Hummus is finding new meanings of the word “happiness” in his forever home (with staff member Claudia, who adored him from the hour they met). The adoptions have just begun.

The season of Safe will last as long as love itself.

Thank you for being at the heart of this hope, beautiful friends.

With love and generosity, your correspondent,
Angela