No, no, no.
Not that Jonathan.
The Jonathan whose face could launch, if not a thousand ships, then a thousand kelp-covered rafts in the bog where Swamp Thing lives.
The Jonathan who is approximately the size and color of a circus peanut, but 50 times sweeter.
The Jonathan who has everyone talking and cooing, swooning and smiling, adoring and asking, “is that a cat?”
The Jonathan who has rather quickly become THE Jonathan everyone consults for guidance at Tabby’s Place. (Sorry, Mr. Founder and Executive Director.)
Having glimpsed his gargoyle-meets-glory face on this blog, you’ve likely wondered what’s taken me so long to lavish you with tales of Jonathan. Frankly, it is difficult to find the words. Puns and prose and sophomoric stylings do no justice to this creature from another planet or era or level of existence.
Jonathan transcends earth-talk.
Our official estimate places Jonathan at ten years of age, but we all know he’s older than Gandalf and carbon and Tony Bennett. Despite being north of 300 years, Jonathan takes quite seriously C.S. Lewis’ admonition, “you are never too old to set another goal, or to dream a new dream.”
And Jonathan dreams…of science.
OK, I just lost you. This face dreams of science?
But hear me out.
Jonathan has more in common with Albert Einstein than hairstyle and proximity to Princeton.
Since almost the instant of his arrival at the Tabby’s Place Laboratory (that’s the TabLab to cats in the know), Jonathan has engaged in high-level experimentation. Don’t tell the government, but he’s working on matters dark and light and full of deep-dish delight.
He is researching the water fountain.
Jonathan is far from the first feline to be fascinated by the Lobby’s cat fountain. It may look like a round piece of white plastic, but they all know it’s a miracle, spewing forth cool, fresh fountain-y fun all day.
But where simpler cats are satisfied with sipping water, Jonathan delves deeper. Which is to say, he places his oversized head directly under the flowing stream of water and holds it there for minutes at a time.
Accordingly, he is perpetually wet.
And prone to pee in…well…all the locations. (Check your coat closet. This scientist knows how to shape-shift.)
Such grueling studies call for a special sort of sustenance, and so Jonathan is endlessly in search of hugs. Fortunately for our smart circus peanut, hugs are widely available in the TabLab. If Dr. Jon doesn’t have his head in his fountain, he’s generally in someone’s loving arms, loving every minute of it.
We can’t wait to find out what he learns from all this weird, wonderful living.
In the meantime, we’re just grateful Jonathan is making up for lost time — and make no mistake, this brave little brioche of a cat has endured terrible times I dare not describe. He’s fighting not just the mysteries of science, but the echoes of an awful past, and the thunderings of present peril in the form of polycystic kidney disease.
But hope has the last word for the cat of science and faith. Love and water and wonder have no end in the TabLab.
So shall it always be. Stay soaked in splendor, my little scientist.