I’m of the strong belief that God is good, all the time. There are few places I’ve been as frequently or as powerfully reminded of this as among the cats of Tabby’s Place. Their unconditional love is a living, purring parable. The quiet, undeniable rhythm of mercy to them and through them is charged with grandeur.
Just when we can’t take another fleck of bad news, just when we feel like the sorrow is pummeling the worthiness of what we do…the mercy comes. And, suddenly, we’re back in the Land of 1,000 Adoptions.
At just the right time, God’s sent a river of good news running through the sanctuary. Some of it’s almost “too” good to be true, in fact. Hang onto your hats (or dancing shoes, Fred :-)), because the next two weeks are going to be rocking with some of the happiest blog posts yet.
To kick off this week, which “coincidentally” is Thanksgiving week (if you believe in coincidences, that is), I thought I’d start with some of the most shockingly-stellar news of all.
Are you sitting down?
No, really. Because you should be. I’m not kidding.
Yes, that Twinkie and Cupcake!
I’ll confess that it was literally unbelievable at first. Every so often, someone will call Tabby’s Place to ask about a cat they’ve seen or heard about somewhere. It’s always a terrified cat, or an angry cat, or a cat with extreme Special Needs. I have no doubt that these are big-hearted people, well-meaning people, and that’s why they think that they can charm or tame or care for the cat in question.
But, 99% of the time, by the time the conversation is over, they’ve heard enough honesty to know that the cat is not what they wanted. Much as we want every cat to be adopted, we don’t want anykitty going to a home that doesn’t understand and love her exactly the way she is. Each cat deserves better than a home that is forever wishing she could be something she’s not.
But this caller would not be deterred.
Not by the fact that Twinkie is, quite literally, untouchable.
Not by the fact that Cupcake is, quite literally, invisible (unless you crawl into a cat treehole).
Not by the fact that, in all likelihood, it will be months if not years before these angel-girls are willing to trust.
Not at all.
It turns out that Mrs. Twinkie-Cupcake has a long and love-rich history of adopting the most terrified, neediest felines she can find, and slowly, painstakingly showing them how good love can be. Far from being put off by Cupcake and Twinkie’s past, she relished the honor of being the one to love them just the way they are.
It became dazzlingly clear that Mrs. Twinkie-Cupcake would give our girls all the time they need to stretch out their souls in the security of her heart and home. With glowing references and a stellar adoption application, it was all over but the going-home.
I said my bittersweet-but-mostly-sweet goodbyes to the dessert girls on Friday. Cupcake, my sweet friend Cupcake, cowered (as usual) in the safe confines of her hidey-hole. Darling Twinkie eyed me anxiously (as usual) from the hammock of the Suite B cat tree. I told them I loved them and always would. I told them they and their mama would be in my prayers. I told them that the best is yet to come, that they ain’t seen nothing yet when it comes to love.
And, today, I’ve had the glee of telling some shocked volunteers that they aren’t seeing things. Those really are Twinkie and Cupcake’s names in a heart on the Community Room white board.
And those aren’t the only amazing names on that white board this week. Stay tuned. 🙂