“Inappropriator” (that’s a cat who’s been convicted of inappropriate elimination, or peeing and pooping where he shouldn’t).
“Adopplication” (that’s an adoption application).
“Shmoldie” (that’s…never mind. All the blogs in all the world aren’t enough to contain the many meanings of shmoldie).
Then there’s one Tabby’s term that’s said tongue-in-cheek, with a speck of sorrow: “two-time loser.” Worse still is the three-time loser, or – the stuff of true tragedy, sadder than even Shakespeare could handle - four-time loser. (Apparently ol’ Will was going to make King Lear a four-time loser, but he decided that would be too sad.) I think this term (like shmoldie) was coined by someone who shall remain anonymous, whose name rhymes with Zonathan. This anonymous individual is literally the single last person on the planet to believe that any cat is in any way a loser. So know that Zonathan says it with love and irony.
The classic two-time loser is a cat who has twice had a brush with adoption, only to have it flutter away from her at the last minute. Exhibit A: Steve. Our favorite buff baby was once adopted and returned (for being an inappropriator, no less). His next almost-adoption came when he was put on hold to be adopted…but, for some reason I no longer recall, it fell through.
Being a two (or three or thirty) time loser is no reflection on a cat. Certainly not the cutest, sweetest, squishiest little three-time loser we’ve ever loved…Tish. Yes, the very same Tish who elicited a collective AWWWW reaching from Ringoes to Rangoon was once, twice, three times a loser. I’m sorry, I just can’t say it.
Tish is and was in no way a loser…but she did come thisclose to three potential adoptions, only to have them come crumbling down like a mountain made of stale chocolate chip cookies (which would actually be kind of cool. But I digress).
Before you feel too badly for Tish, let me set your mind at ease: she cared about her “loser” status about as much as she cared about the inner workings of the Nixon administration, or the fastest route to Bergen County. In fact, I think Tish took a sort of glee in getting to stay at Tabby’s Place, with her beau Bialy, just a little longer. Matter of fact, Tish a “loser” in the same way as a toddler who keeps running up and down the hallway when it’s bedtime. But the littlest “loser” was bound to win before she was out of babyhood.
So it was a happy, sad, stellar day when Team Tish finally arrived. Unlike the other potential adopters, the fine folks of Team Tish were gleaming with meant-to-be-ness. But they didn’t want a lonely little Tish, and so it was that they made it a two-fer: one Tish + one Bartholomew = one winning forever team.
If there’s really any “loser” in all of this, it was Bialy – briefly. For the first few hours after losing his girl to her forever family, Bialy was bereft. OK, I am completely making that up. Bialy is as capable of “bereftness” as Christopher Walken is of being unscary. Tish’s tail had barely slipped into the carrier before Bialy was darting after Uncle Tashi, utterly unruffled.
Ah, kittens. So resilient, so adept at bouncing back from life’s changes, so incapable of ever, ever being a loser. But being a shmoldie? That’s another story altogether.
Supply your own definition for that endlessly multipurpose word, and you’re probably right. And, as long as it’s limned in love, any vocab you’d like to flaunt is fine for our winning Tish.
*Epilogue: Yes, Tish’s ‘real’ name is Morticia. Rather, it was. Turns out the momma in Team Tish wasn’t so keen on the moniker “Morticia” for her new baby. She happened to hear us referring to Tish as Tish, and squealed with joy, “TISH! That’s it!” Gotta love it when things shmoldie themselves into place like that.