If you have even the faintest idea what a “gmork” is, you just earned 100,000,000,000,000 bonus brownie points.
And if you have even the faintest idea what a “gmork” is, you know that no cat, anywhere, has anything in common with one.
Well…maybe one little tiny thing.
But first, a quick lesson for the uninitiated less-geeky-than-me: a gmork, or more properly the Gmork, is a servant to the power behind the Nothing. So now that we’ve covered that…well, okay, a little more context might help. The Gmork is a freaky, evil, nasty wolf-looking beast whose mind is filled with dark thoughts – and also a servant to the power behind the Nothing. He makes his dastardly appearance in The Never-Ending Story, which is only the awesomest movie in the history of all time my favorite movie. When he meets the hero, Atreyu (which, by the way, would be an amazing name for a cat), the Gmork kind of looks like a disembodied black head peering out from a dark, dank, vile hidey-hole, lit only by his glowing eyes. While watching the movie as recently as last week as a little girl, every time the Gmork’s big scene loomed, I’d scream for my Mom to come into the room. He was just that scary.
Now it should be obvious that cats have nothing in common with the Gmork. For one thing, the Gmork serves the Nothing (kind of like a black hole for hope and imagination). Cats, on the other hand, serve nothing, and no one. Even the nicest, most darling, sweet-as-pudding cats – in other words, Webster – live for self-service.
Then there’s the whole “mind filled with dark thoughts” thing. Contrary to the fallacies of fools misguided opinions of misinformed people, no cat’s mind is filled with dark and malicious thoughts. Any evidence to the contrary is just a symptom of something else – very much “else,” in fact. Dobro, for instance, does not actually wish to do humans grievous bodily harm, nor to annihilate our species. He is just still angry over the fact that his father never let him buy flavored instant oatmeal as a kitten. Nuttin does not actually wish to annihilate Dusty. Dusty simply reminds him of the cat who used to call him “Fatty McFatterson” as he walked by in his previous shelter. And Cecille, darling little Cecille, doesn’t really mean to take over the world by the magical equation of her epic cuteness + her 21 readily-available switchblades. She just…well, maybe some cats’ minds are filled with dark thoughts. Or at least world-domination thoughts.
But all kidding aside: we know there is no such thing as an evil cat, or even a bad cat. Absolutely not. But today, for just a brief flash, one decidedly non-evil feline reminded me of the Gmork.
Before you start wondering if my mind is filled with dark thoughts, I assure you that this was all about the glowing eyes and the hidey hole. Much like the freaky, evil, nasty wolf-looking beast, this precious, darling, sweet-tempered feline was peeping at me from a darkened hidey-hole, lit only by pepper-green peepers. Unlike Dobro the Gmork, Mistletoe did not attempt to kill me. (Or launch into an extended discussion of her mission and calling.) Not, that is, unless “death by mooshing” is a possibility – and, if so, it’s a risk I’m happy to take.
Mistletoe’s hidey-hole of choice was the corner crevice between the ramp and the bank of crates in Suite FIV. With all the beds, blankies and sunny solarium spots available, you’d think this dainty girl could find a better nest than this stainless-steel, sorta-squashed spot. But you’d be thinking like a human bean, not a Mistletoe – and make no mistake, Mistletoe knows what’s best for Mistletoe. At first, seeing those green eyes glowing out at me, I imagined Mistletoe was scared – of humans, or the other cats, or both. She’s only been living in Suite FIV for a week or so, and at the moment she’s the only female, so it seemed reasonable that she might be a little overwhelmed. But, again, I was thinking like a human.
Be it known: Mistletoe is not afraid.
She made that much clear by emerging – eyes first, then face, then the whole front half of her hugely-adorable little self – and mooshing the living daylights out of my hand. When I drew it back to steady my camera, the moosh madness continued, as Mistletoe made frantic, zealous mega-muffins into the walls of the hidey-hole. Someone had thoughtfully placed a blanket in Mistletoe’s hideaway, and she “muffined” it for all its worth with her tiny paws. When I returned my hand to her, Mistletoe grabbed it, pulled it close and, using her own paws, rubbed it all over her face like a beloved washcloth.
Yeah…make that very not-afraid.
Much as I love Mistletoe’s name, it’s a little long for day-to-day use, and my daft head has already started calling her M - à la James Bond’s boss. Like that M, Mistletoe has her paw on the pulse of all secret goings-on, and manages her very own cadre of super-secret spies (and you thought the FIV+ cats were just cats). Mistletoe misses nothing, and, from the security of her hidey-hole, keeps all her spy-boys in line (that means you, Edward). So why does a girl like this hide?
Maybe she just likes having a hidey-hole. Maybe she’s mercifully rationing her appearances to the wider world so that she doesn’t steal the spotlight from all her roomies (which she’s quite capable of doing). Maybe she likes being up high so that people have to kiss each other when they stand under her (being Mistletoe and all). Maybe she just wants to offer some moral support to fellow hidey-hole-hider Poi, who is afraid (very afraid – but more on him in the future).
Maybe we’ll just never know, because cats don’t have to explain themselves. Ever.
Whatever the reason for her hiding, Mistletoe is no Gmork. This dainty darling’s mind is filled with only the mooshiest, muffin-i-est thoughts. If I were a gambling woman, I’d put good money on the odds that nothing – certainly not The Nothing – is standing in the way of M’s swift-coming adoption. Not shyness. Not fear. And certainly not that silly FIV.
Take my advice, Felis Catus fam: come moosh M while the mooshing’s good, because this baby’s on the fast track to a very un-Gmorky forever home.
*If M were adopted, she would continue a crazy-awesome streak for the FIV+ cats of Tabby’s Place. Poi and M herself took the places of recently-adopted Luther and Kirk; currently in quarantine are newbies Twix and Terrance (more on them soon), who replace the even-more-recently-adopted Fern and Oreo. When Mervyn joins Oreo and Fern in their forever home this afternoon (can you say Super-Incredible-Fantastically-Amazing-AwesomeAdopter?), that’ll make room for yet another FIV+ sweetie. I recommend we change the expression “going like hotcakes” to “going like Tabby’s Place FIV+ cats.”