We pick up where we left off Tuesday.
Tag, the beautiful “black swan” stray, has just been dealt impossible odds…
You did not know what to make of all the hands and voices, Tag. Nobody ever does. It is a strange thing to be saved. You did not earn it, and you cannot lose it. Yet in a whirlwind of compassion, your tag is turned from “stray” to “swan,” from “free” to “priceless.”
You go from “trap-neuter-return cat” to “Tag.”
And if your tag reads “impossible,” you must go to one place that proves that word absurd.
Your locked mouth meant you could not return outdoors. You were set apart from the other cats in the TNR project, as your angels scrambled to find some secret passageway into hope. All the usual options were as obstinate as your poor jaw, locked shut. Who will take a nervous stray who needs a rare level of care, but who cannot pay her way with friendliness? The price tag to save your life was high. The “hopeless” tag was heavy.
“Tabby’s Place cat” is the key tag that opens doors … or knocks them down, if necessary.
So you, brave Tag, were recruited for hope’s quest. Together, we would find the way to unlock your future. First, we would feed you. Out of sheer love for living, you MacGuyvered your own mouth open just enough to eat, be it ever so slow and torturous.
You must have been confused by how fast we fell for you. As soon as you arrived at Tabby’s Place, all of our jaws dropped. It is the natural reaction to seeing an aurora borealis on an ordinary Monday, or a black swan in a backyard swimming pool. You were splendor and dignity with earnest, honest eyes. You were draped in fur as rich as the good Earth. You were Tag, perfect and perfectly enough, needs and all.
You were ours, and we were yours, and those are the only tags that matter.
But you were in trouble. Your medical case was complex. World-class specialists did their best but could not coax your mouth open enough even to intubate you for procedures. They persevered. We researched, consulted the finest experts, brainstormed, and barnstormed heaven with prayer.
You were set apart to be ours, and we would not let you down.
To love a cat is to wear the tag of “fragile.” It is the jewelry of the breakable. We know these heart-shaped lockets have sharp edges. By adoring a small animal we can lose, we put our own necks on the line.
But you, black swan, were worth the risk. Even if we are otherwise as ordinary as oatmeal, Tabby’s Place people have been set apart by one thing: unconditional, inexhaustible, decidedly “impossible” love.
More than any mountaintop or masterpiece, that is the wonder that can make your jaw drop.
And today, the sweetest sight, known to human, cat, or swan, is the open mouth of Tag the cat.
Just to watch you eat kibble is a feast better than five hundred cheeseburgers. (You might disagree. We are working on obtaining them for you.) When your mouth makes a little “O,” as round as the moon, your meow comes out as the chorus of the cosmos, even if the correct translation happens to be, “please procure five hundred cheeseburgers.”
And when you blink into our eyes, dreamlike and divine, we see endless open doors, all tagged, “possible.”
Yes, Tag, you were tagged.
We’ll never be able to say “thank you” enough for getting to love you. Nobody ever does.
If Tag has touched your heart, please donate to the Linda Fund. This beautiful girl is only here because somebody like you did just that, this time last year. Imagine the life you will save in the days to come…