Every cat at Tabby’s Place is an expert.
We are packed to the gills with authorities, on topics ranging from parmigiana to campaign finance reform.
But there are experts, there are authorities, and then there are scholars.
In the academic guild, a scholar is someone with stripes on her shoulders. She has chosen a topic of novel research, wrestled a dissertation to the ground, and obtained her terminal degree. When Commencement ends, she steps into tomorrow with letters after her name: PhD, EdD, PsyD, DMin, et al.
At Tabby’s Place, the process is identical.
The letters are different.
Rihanna recognized a hole in the literature on solar energy, and she set to work filling it. No astronomer or poet ever studied the glissando of sunbeams across tabby stripes. Rihanna sacrifices hours that could be spent laying like Jabba the Hutt indoors, in order to lay like Jabba the Hutt outdoors.
Scholarship comes at personal cost.
But Rihanna has counted the cost. Rihanna has observed the changing moods of light. The sun at 1pm turns her streaks to cinnamon. Come 3pm, she is allspice. Warmth and light can turn a salty cat to streusel. Incidentally, a doctoral stipend of duck nuggets can turn a stray into a sea mammal. Like all true scholars, Rihanna studies the world and learns about herself.
We are proud of Rihanna, FIV.
Batty was born curious. Her ears were installed in the upright position. She is a glutton for mystery, which means her life will never run dry. She is going to major in everything from Political Science to Emu Husbandry.
But this semester, she is studying the endangered art of receiving. From between the carrels and card catalogs, she studies Puff. Like a primatologist among baboons, she marvels at Mr. Man.
Batty is besotted by the study of affection. Her subjects swoon and snuggle outside the accepted etiquette of “earning.” They receive, receive, and receive. They receive kisses, chicken, and that thing no one can afford: dawn.
Batty believes the world needs to know that the world is full of needs, and of cats and people who can meet them for free. Batty is gathering the courage to act on her own research.
We are proud of Batty, FeLV.
Abacus was already a preeminent authority on the Fast and Furious franchise, but that was not enough. When you are born to learn, enough is never enough. Abacus grieved the lack of literature on Big Giant Heads.
If you read Abacus’ thesis, you will understand why this phenomenon must be capitalized. Big Giant Heads, particularly when affixed to feline shoulders, are an untapped force of peace power. Abacus could have spent his summer watching videos of aerialist rodents, but he eschewed ChipmunkTube for his studies.
He watched his neighbors, feline and otherwise. He measured their craniums. He timed their acts of affection until his timer battery died. In point-blank proximity to love, Abacus felt his heart grow so large, it started to fill his head, too.
We are proud of Abacus, FIV, FeLV.
They all have their terminal degrees. They have every right to a graduation party, complete with fancy cheeses from the south of France.
If you read their diplomas in haste, you may think Rihanna, Batty, and Abacus have terminal diseases. They have been infected with conditions that muffle their immune systems. They have reason to remember that each morning is an individual serving of mercy.
(They have no more reason to believe this than you and me.)
But the letters after their names are letters of recommendation. They are shorthand for retroviruses, but also license to major in this moment. They are either baggage or a jet pack, depending on where you stand. They are a cheer squad in the marathon of choosing the life that chose you.
They are doctorates in being fully alive.
There is not a living creature without letters after their name.
So if you’re looking for me, I’ll be in the Academy we call Quinn’s Corner, sitting at the knees of the scholars and savants.
I want to know how to turn my wounds into first-aid kits. I want to be an apprentice in the alchemy of raw deals into daily bread.
I want to sneak duck nuggets to Rihanna until she is as round as the sun.
I don’t ever intend to graduate.