When you enter Suite C, you expect to be greeted by a thundering herd.
You do not, however, expect to have your heart shot straight into the sky, only to land in a 14-year-old calico’s paws.
But then, who could expect a Jenny?
Mere mortal that I am, I did not expect a Jenny. I did not guard my heart. I simply blundered and dundered into Suite C to meet and mush some new residents…
…and I got massively mushed myself.
On a normal day, the risk of getting mushed in Suite C is high. (Higher than a pile of 400,000 tacos. Higher than that really tall building in Dubai. Higher than Snoop Dogg’s birthday party in Willie Nelson’s van. There is also a Snoop in Suite C. I digress.)
The cats in this particular clowder are huge. (Huger than a pile of 400,000 tacos. Huger than Jupiter. Huger than Louie Armstrong’s impact on the development of jazz. There is also a Louie in Suite C. I digress.) They are loving. They are…exuberant.
They will mush you. And, since each mushy cat appears to have eaten 400,000 tacos, you may not be able to mush your way out from under them, or back into your original shape. Such are the risks of letting yourself be loved by the largest cats in all the land.
The risks are high. (Higher than…OK, I’ll stop.) The risks are worth it.
And when it comes to Jenny, the risks are infinitely, thunderously, hugely worth it.
Once I rollicked my way through the thundering herd of Snoop and Louie and several other bison-sized individuals, I saw…her.
Pale green eyes.
Pastel calico coat.
Perfectly planet-shaped and -sized creature, greeting me with the gaze of a saint and the meow of an angel.
“Maaah?” said Jenny.
“Ohhhh…” said I.
The next thing I remember, I was waking up on the floor of Suite C, a mighty herd of brontosaurus-sized beasts licking my face and inspecting me for tacos.
And at the head of the pack was one Jenny, softest of all cats, roundest of all cats, gentle queen of all she surveys, a fount of love and largesse and largeness. She meowed continually. I sang back in my faint and baffled voice, smitten beyond the stars.
There are no adequate words, no worthy songs, when one is in the presence of such Great Love.
Jenny is still new to Tabby’s Place, but she’s already found her mission. Beaming and beatific, seeming to give off light from deep within, Jenny has come to give. Great Love shoots out of her like stardust, lightning, sunsparkle and hugs and mystical magic tacos that feed the soul.
We knew that Jenny had been well-loved — cherished, nearly hallowed — by her previous owner. Nurtured like a beloved child since kittenhood, the round, radiant calico is so full to the brim of blessing, she can hardly keep from spilling over, singing forth all that is good in the world.
Short on hope? Go to Suite C. Do not bring an umbrella.
She is a cat with a calling. She will fulfill it well.
And we humanbeans…well, we’ll be dumbstruck, silent with awe, jaws dropped and hearts wide open in Suite C.
Long may your thunder roll, Jenny. Great Love has come for us all.
PS: All this, and we haven’t even broached the topic of Jack, Jenny’s longtime housemate and evident soulmate in matters of Great Love and microscopic meows from big bodies. Consider my heart muchly mushed for the foreseeable future.