Is life a tragedy or a comedy?
How about Tabby’s Place?
If we just hover over the last month, we might be tempted to answer
“tragedy” “big honking hideous sulfur-scented tragedy.”
But wait a second, kittens. Let some giant pterodactyl of the mind grab you by your sweater and hoist you to the 30,000-foot view. Life and Tabby’s Place are more than this month.
In ye olde Greek terminology, it wouldn’t be fair to call a tale either a “tragedy” or a “comedy” until the bitter or beautiful end. Those words weren’t so much about searing sadness or gut-busting laughter — they had everything to do with how things look from the final curtain.
Don’t trash this life as a tragedy until that final curtain. I have it on good authority we’re all going to be laughing at ourselves and our sorrows, swallowed up as they are in endless delight.
But on the way there, tragedy makes some rather wrenching noises, louder than a Bernie Sanders tirade accompanied by air hammers. It will fool us, if it can, into believing that it’s sewn up the whole story.
Still, we need reminders that we’re only in an early act here, that the Director’s still got life and love well in hand. And, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, because I come bearing reminders.
In the same way that it’s not good to smother a hypothermic person in too much heat too fast, or to over-stuff a starving face with 400 falafels, I’ll be meting these out as we can handle them.
So consider this post-snowpocalypse sweetness from Storm’s Papa your daily dose of dark chocolate, your curative cocktail of “comedy,” and your reminder that life, at the end of all things, wins. To remind you of the storm before Storm was Storm, I’ve included photos of the wild white wonder when we knew her as Cecille…followed by her Papa’s pics of the serene Storm of today.
“It’s been a long time since we sent an update, so we thought we’d send you something to smile about.
“Storm (nee Cecille) and I are doing very well. Storm has had her second teeth cleaning and got a clean bill of health from our favorite vet. Her weight is consistent, and her blood work is all normal.
“We have 4 cat beds, but Storm is not interested in them. Storm has discovered that the heating vents are made of warm, so her new favorite spot is lying on top of one in the dining room. When she wants company, she’ll join me on the couch or climb into bed with me.
“At some point later this year, if all goes well, we are moving to the Portland, Oregon area. My girlfriend and I are looking to start a new life together, and she lives in that area. She and Storm get along great. But, my girlfriend has a cat of her own with eyesight issues. We are working on a plan for integration slowly over a month or two. I am mostly concerned with Storm not having as much contact with me during that time, as she will have a room to herself. I am hoping that spending a few nights a week with her, as well as regular daily cuddle time, will help the transition.
“But Storm is not staying behind; we are a team now. No struggle is too great to keep us together.”
A thousand Amens to that. Love like this is also “made of warm,” built to last, and able to overcome the world.
And so it shall.
*OK, that was actually kind of cool, especially since Tabby’s Place didn’t lose power and everybody had enough milk and bread, except Virginia, who is livid that her French toast request has gone unfulfilled.