The measure of a year depends entirely on the scale.
For thirteen lucky cats, 2016 was the grandest year of all.
We’re all a bit older than we were at the start of this year, aren’t we? Of course, that’s true every year (you’re welcome for this advanced scientific information). But there
was something were many, many merciless somethings about 2016 that made this sucker different.
Still, 2016 is not so simple to summarize. What struck us as savage was life-savingly sweet for a baker’s dozen cats.
When 2016 was born, Grindle, Tux, Cisco, Chloe, OJ, Irene, and Irene’s wee spawn (Roland, Talitha, Oy, Jake, Odetta, Topeka and Randall) inhabited a world of woe. Crammed into a small apartment with their 49 closest friends, these thirteen were the frailest souls in a fearful setting.
As the year roared on, someone gave someone a tip about the tragedy, and someone saw fit to step in — a miracle of mercy. But all was not calm for our weary thirteen.
The weakest of the group — physically, not spiritually — were oldies Cisco, Chloe and OJ. So ragged was Cisco that the presiding vet took one look at his bony bod and positive FIV test and said, “shall I just euthanize this one now?”
Such was mid-2016.
But 2016 would end in triumph for the thirteen. Tabby’s Place could not take all 61 of the hoarding case’s survivors (much less the single dog), but we could take the group in greatest need.
From that moment, 2016 became one boffo year of blessings.
Cisco gained nearly five pounds (the rough equivalent of fifty on a human). OJ discovered the special satisfaction of keeping vigil at the laundry room door for fresh refreshments. Irene was adopted, getting to enjoy a second shot at kittenhood without nursing a starving septet of her own. Those seven scrawny kittens have almost all been adopted, and elders Chloe, Grindle and Tux are tooling around Tabby’s Place with new-born hopes and full-belly happiness.
To ask this flung-together family of cats, 2016 was the year that other years aspire to.
So 2016, even as we mourn you, even as you mystify us in many ways, we thank you, too. There is always, always good.
Now, if you’ll pardon me, I must assure OJ that there is always, always wet food.