You hear your anthem. Snoop Dogg is cheering your name. The whole world is your Number One Fan.
One of two things is happening.
Either you just won a gold medal in the Olympic Games…
…or you are a Tabby’s Place cat on an unremarkable Thursday.
When you are a Tabby’s Place cat, victory hopscotches up and down your double helix. You are the persistence of perseverance. You are the scourge of “hopeless situations.” You own a mountain of medals in the ancient sport of Outrunning Odds.
(Your medals happen to be meat nuggets shaped like stars. Gold is too low in protein.)
You also have a secret.
You are capable of bilocation.
bi·lo·ca·tion /ˌbīlōˈkāSHən/
noun: the supposed phenomenon of being in two places simultaneously
How else to explain the fact that you are currently in both Ringoes, New Jersey and Paris, France?
This is not up for debate. Turn on your television. You will see them.
There’s Moo Moo, chewing her cud to victory in the Canoe Slalom. She zooms around beds and hapless human legs, a meat-seeking missile when the clock strikes four. The world is her river, and her billowing, bovine body is the only boat she needs. The finish line is the volunteer at the door, bearing a tray of triumph. If you own a thesaurus, you know that “triumph” is a synonym for “poultry.”
There’s Shaggy, shattering records and giving Noah Lyles new goals. The fastest man in the world is no match for the cat who dominates the dash from cubby to broken heart. If you have been disqualified, Shaggy will sprint to your side. If you cannot outrun grief, Shaggy shall bolt to bolster your worth. If you just cried in front of your boss, walked into a glass door, and ate a sleeve of Oreos in the bathroom so no one could see you, Shaggy will hurtle over hurdles (e.g. Juel, Napoleon) to remind you that you are a winner.
There’s Fergie, born to breakdance. With one and a half ears to the ground, Fergie hears the rhythm of the universe. That is because Fergie taught the universe to have rhythm in the first place. She is a nutmeg nugget whose every move is a dance. She is a sonic survivor who teaches her toys how to play. She is a quilt of quirks, born for the sport of spins. She jams with jubilation and stops traffic by engraving infinity signs around your ankles.
There’s Napoleon, the hero with the rough-and-tumble rugby physique. But the littlest emperor excels in Archery. His cranium may be the size of a volleyball, but it’s his heart that’s larger than the Olympic rings. I would not recommend competing against him, because you will lose. You are more likely to dunk on LeBron James or vault over Simone Biles. His arrows will land directly in your sweet center. Yet, you will receive a medal. The medal is Napoleon.
There’s Sammy, who puts the “drastic” in Rhythmic Gymnastics. If you’ve ever watched this underrated event and thought, “those folks look like they’re playing with wand toys,” you deserve a place on the podium. Sammy is grateful to live in a world where there is a sport devoted to cavorting with streamers. Sammy is grateful to live in a world, period, which is why she is solid gold.
There’s Uni (pictured in top banner), tuxedoed teen and trampoline queen. She is flight and fight, an entire world of color in black-and-white formal wear. Were she not so irresistible, Uni would exasperate the judges. But her bounce is benevolent, and even retired athletes like Tom take notice. I can neither confirm nor deny that Pepita was spotted purchasing a “Uni” jersey.
There’s Polly, the swiftest swimmer this side of the Seine. Polly is the wallpaper on Katie Ledecky’s phone. Polly turns flip turns into a philosophy of life. Polly crossed the waters from Beirut to New Jersey with her grace intact. Polly is blind, but in constant communication with all the elements. Few can pet Polly, yet she is one of the golden favorites at Tabby’s Place, simply because she is Polly, and we are her people.
There’s Oram, who is petitioning the International Olympic Committee to consider “Buffoonery” for inclusion in the 2028 Games.
And, of course, there is Maurice, the cat who convinced me that Tabby’s Place and Paris are one and the same location.
Bilocation? Maybe not.
Victory? Bien sûr.
So join us, mes amis. The tickets to every event are free. The medals are all gold. The athletes have tails, and egos bigger than the Eiffel Tower.
The Games are on.