…it’s May. The lusty month of May, to be exact.
This fact is not lost on our lobby cats.
Traditionally, the Tabby’s Place lobby is a bastion of Cats Who Don’t Love Cats (And The Cats Who Don’t Love Them Back). In fact, one of the best ways to get yourself a plum lobby position is by itching and agitating in a suite.
Jenny, Toya, Elmo, Peachy and Halie all followed this route. (Pop quiz: has living in the lobby sweetened Halie and brought her peace and joy? Yes, it has. In other news, I am, indeed, the Queen of Spain. Also, Wolf Blitzer is going to enter and win the 2012 presidential race on the campaign promise of giving everyone chocolate eclairs. And Ronathan is doing Zumba in your front yard right now.)
Crafty cats, these; they somehow knew that, if they just sulked and sighed and dropped weight enough in the company of other cats, they’d get an express ticket to the place in the sanctuary with the lowest (feline) population density. If being around other cats puts you in a permanent state of Fixin’ To Die, we will place you in the lobby and love on you all day. True fact.
Then there are the lobby brawlers. In a quirky concidence, these bad rad boys tend to be drawn from that other kind of lobby cats: The Ones We Felt Bad For. (True confession to my fellow wordynerds: it took all my strength and gumption not to make that “The Ones For Whom We Felt Badly.” But, for once – and it’s probably just this one time, ever, so enjoy it - non-awkwardness won. We now return to your regularly scheduled awkward geekery. Carry on.)
Boots got his lobby throne for having heinously horrible heart disease at a young age. Gunther got his sinecure for having horrific kidneys. Gingko got the glory for his sad, leaky heinie. (Guarantee: this is not a sentence you will read on any other blog, anywhere.) Their maladies – and our marshmallowy sympathy – may have gotten these guys into the lobby…but their Hulk Hogan-esque beatdowns have made their fame.
So this all makes it rather perplexing that the lobby cats – the lobby cats – should be open to the lusty side of May.
We already know about Toya and Elmo’s unspoken affair. But if that weren’t enough to make you start humming secret loooo-vers, that’s what we are, I present you with incriminating evidence on two of our all-time favorites:
Yes, that would be Peachy. And Gingko. Call Page Six, call Extra!, call the Army, Navy and Marines (and also the Merchant Marine, whatever it is they do): the lusty month of May has arrived in the unlikeliest of places.
Next thing we know, Dot will be playing with Gunther.
Wait a minute…
Completely shameless PS: Did you know you can love on the cats with double the lustiness this month? Click on over to the Linda Fund, and your donation will be matched by Really Generous Folks between now and May 30th. The Linda Fund is all about the uber-needy cats like Dot, Gunther and company, so it is simply the best way to celebrate May day. True fact.
Completely irrelevant PS: If you knew the “tra-la” reference from the get-go, I love you and we should be best friends. Every May for the past 31 years, including today, has started with my Mom flinging open my door, calling, texting or e-mailing me to start the morning by singing the opening words of the Camelot song in her lovely alto: “Tra-la! It’s May!” Yes, awesomeness runs in the family. And, yes, it does make you extremely cool in 7th grade to be singing about how ev-reee maiden prays that her lad will be a cad.