It has come to my attention that, every spring, those buttoned-up and staid Brits engage in a sport befitting crumpets and Queens.
They chase a nine-pound ball of cheese down a steep hill.*
At this point it must be noted that Bleu is not a nine-pound ball of cheese. If you’re looking for a nine-pound ball of cheese, glance up the Suite A ramp at Bleu’s mom, Gorgonzola.
Bleu is an 1100 18-pound ball of cheese. And remember that this is Bleu Lite: he was a 25-pound hunk of dairy when he first returned to Tabby’s Place. (“Quelle fromage!” cried Cecille upon his arrival.)
But this weekend, like that ball of Gloucestershire cheese across the pond, Bleu rolled on out of Tabby’s Place. That’s right: the biggest cat with the tiniest voice has been adopted.
We sentimental humans might like to think that mama Gorgonzola found it bittersweet to see her boy leave. They’d just been reunited a few months ago, and for him to roll away so soon was…well, less interesting than fat-free Swiss on a rice cake, apparently. If anything, ‘Zola was perplexed by her son’s sweetness towards humans. You could almost see it in her terrified green eyes: Did I raise this child? Is this really my spawn that’s allowing humans to — ew, ew, ew — touch him?
Bleu’s not slighted in the least. In the immortal words of the great philosopher Will Smith, parents just don’t understand. But Bleu doesn’t need Gorgonzola’s approval to be one happy hunk of cat.
And, once again like that cheese ball barreling down an English hill, Bleu’s adoption is leading an inexorable tumble of adoptions out of Tabby’s Place. We’ll be touching on these in future blog posts, but for now, feast your eyes on this board of hearts:
In the immortal words of TobyMac, sometimes things are so dope you can barely cope.
Peace out, my little cheeseheads, and roll on to greater greatness.
*No, I am not making this up. I don’t think I’m awesome enough to have made this up. I am also not making up the fact that the following are actual quotations from the actual British newspaper The Telegraph: “Chasing cheese may be dangerous. It is meant to be.” And, “The right to pursue a cheese, if not specified by the European Convention, is dear to the heart of a free-born Briton.” But of course.