Some sentences that are categorically false at all times:
“That kitten is not cute.”
“That episode of Family Guy was important to my spiritual growth.”
“That cat absolutely loves major changes.”
Well…maybe not all times.
It’s been a season of aggressive change at Tabby’s Place.
We’re TNRing like we’re preparing for the Olympic trials. (“And in lane 4, castrating kittens, it’s Dr. Laura Collins for the United States.”)
We’re knocking down sheetrock and tearing out toilets with great elation, in the service of our hospital expansion. (By “we,” I mean “the 970 stalwart bearded construction men swinging from the ceilings with hammers.” They are us. We are them.)
We’re rearranging every object at Tabby’s Place, down to the tiniest grain of sand, to make way for the aforementioned knocking and tearing.
And, since all of this is too small a project, we’re also moving all the cats around in the biggest game of Musical Chairs known to felinity.
There was a Nintendo game in the early ’90s known as Marble Madness (eight bits of awesome power!). In this highly thrilling game, you were a marble, with the goal of rolling. (No, no, it was really more less exciting than I’m making it sound.) Along you rolled, until you reached a hateful level of the game that announced: “EVERYTHING YOU KNOW IS WRONG!” Suddenly, the forward button sent you backward. “Up” meant “down.” It was all you could do not to spin your poor little marble into Dante’s ninth circle of hell.
This is essentially what we’ve just inflicted on the cats.
For many moons, Violet lived in Suite B. Violet loved Suite B — particularly its solarium, particularly when Steve and Daisy were there for her to yell at/nap beside/yell at. Oh, and also the smorgasbord. Kibble is love. Kibble is life. God’s clearest sign of His goodness is the existence of kibble. Violet was rolling.
Now Violet is in Suite C. There is no Daisy in Suite C. There is no Steve in Suite C. The Suite C solarium has crazy people like Virginia and Jackie squawking right back at Violet. There is no dry food in Suite C, ever for 10 hours a day. EVERYTHING VIOLET KNOWS IS WRONG.
For even more moons, Hootz lived in Suite C. Hootz ruled Suite C, howling her soul into all that she surveyed, splattering her essence (and…other substances) all over the solarium, being miniature and mighty and otherwise Napoleonic. Hootz was rolling.
Now Hootz is in Suite A. The Suite A cats are not impressed with Hootz. Howl on, say Dobro and his minions. We’re all mad here. EVERYTHING HOOTZ KNOWS IS WRONG.
There’s much more. Rose is in the Special Needs Suite. Adam is in Suite A. Monica‘s in Suite C. Impy is in Suite C.
It is the very definition of “off the chain.”
Surely the cats hate this madness, aye?
I confess I’d worried, Italian-grandma style, about our movers and shakers. I’d also whined, Kardashian-style. Not Viiiiiiiiiiolet. She loves Suite B. Ayyyyyyy…
But a funny thing happened on the way to unraveling. The cats…rolled with it.
Eyes all lazy with ease, Violet sparkled up at me. Oh, did I move? It looks like the sunshine followed me. It’s all good. Alright alright alright.
Running too fast to realize the scenery had changed, Hootz howled on. As best she can tell, everyone is still submitting to her authority.
When everything you know is “I am awesome and loved, and the world is inherently safe,” everything you know can never go wrong.
Once again, the cats are cooler than we’re capable of. Just think of it, kittens: on an ordinary Thursday, you’re suddenly, forcibly lifted from your home and plunked into someone else’s house, with approximately 17 someone elses living there. (And you all share three toilets. Bonus!) Are you happy? Are your eyes lazy with ease?
Could you roll with it?
Don’t torture yourself with this imagery too long. Fortunately, this is unlikely to happen to you. And, for better or worse, you and I are not cats. We’re just not equipped with their ability to roll.*
But we’ll continue to let them teach us as best they can.
*Unless we happen to be Louie Anderson or the blueberry girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, we are also unequipped with Violet’s physical ability to roll. Girlfriend is round as a candy apple, and she rocks her full circumference.