The inner tube

The inner tube

16083611385_71f8da71d5_kQuick: name a squeaky-clean gentleman with the following characteristics:

  1. Named Mitt R.
  2. Quietly conservative
  3. Not addicted to running for President of the United States
"I am the tube, and the tube is me."
“I am the tube, and the tube is me.”

There’s only one individual who will adMitt of those characteristics: Mitt Rosenberg.

No, we’re not launching a new sequence of cats named for Stubborn Presidential Candidates (with apologies to the Adlai, Eugene and H. Ross who might have been). “Mitt,” in this magnificent case, is short for Mittens. Much as the name suits our white-footed fellow, we couldn’t bring ourselves to call another cat by a name that had been so thoroughly owned before.

So Mittens II became Mitt I The Great.

And Mitt became the first Tabby’s Place cat to attempt a full-time residency of the tube.

Many pre-Mitt cats have spent a season in the tube. The Plexiglas chute leading from suite to solarium is a dern near perfect place to hide in plain sight while you weigh the odds that the humans are going to eat and/or sing to you.

But sub-Mitt cats ultimately decide. Some choose the cooler temperatures and horizon glimpses of the solarium, squatting at the top of the ramp and gazing down on lesser beings with opposable thumbs. Dina, Cory and the late Georgie settled on this path.

Others opt for the indoors, descending into cozy cubbies. This has been the journey of Valencia, Pollen and the phenomenon known as Dobro.

But Mitt is the one cat who has quietly made it known: I refuse to choose.

Who’s to say you can’t let go of one trapeze without grabbing the next? Perhaps there’s something to be said for flying midair for longer than seems possible.

Is he headed in or out of the tube? Either way, we love our Mitt.
Is he headed in or out of the tube? Either way, we love our Mitt.

Who’s to say that you can’t keep one foot on sea, one on shore? Perhaps there’s something holy about the salty mud in the middle.

Who’s to say that there’s any iron schedule for finding your feet at all?

Not Mitt. Not us. Leaps of love take time. We’ll be here to catch this glorious creature when he finally lands.

In the meantime, we love Mitt with the warmth of 10,000 suns (give or take) through his Plexiglas cocoon. And make no mistake, kittens: this is a cat who knows he is cherished.

Pre-Tabby’s Place, Mitt was rescued by two of the Most Loving Human Beings In The History Of Human Beings. They rescued him mightily, snuggled him fervently, and, having loved him, loved him to the utmost.

They got him into Tabby’s Place through the Exceptional Circumstances Program.

We’re talking about a young couple, people. A family with five cats of their own. A family who wasn’t Mitt’s family…except that he found them, and they loved him, and love makes a family.

That’s exceptional. That’s love.

And that’s why I’m confident that this very loved creature is going to win — not the presidency, but the greater victory over fear.




2 thoughts on “The inner tube

  1. Another shy sweet(almost)tuxedo boy to love – in memory of Georgie. Mitt, you have made it to paradise – you don’t know how we are all adoring your toes from below!

  2. During my last volunteer shift I asked someone who that tuxedo cat was watching us from the tube .. the answer of course was Mitt. I hope some day soon he will come out and let me give him a hug .. he is a gorgeous boy!

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