When grief floods the plain, Tabby’s Place people don’t flee to higher ground.

They pull on galoshes. They pull over when the windshield wipers can’t keep up with their tears.

Then they keep going.

After all, there’s still daylight. There’s still Pibb.

“How is Pibb?”

The question flew in from all quarters. Across time zones and Facebook timelines, Tabby’s Place people reached out to the mourning tabby.

Pibb had just lost her Goodwin, the soulmate-cat salvaged from the wreck of a traumatic time. They had both survived a hoarding situation. Though they were gaunt and unwell, they did not drown in despair. They had slivers of sunlight that no one could stop.

They had each other.

And in the last blaze of summer, they had their miracle.

Tabby’s Place joined a fierce fellowship of local organizations to save all 49 animals from the house. Yet, in the hour they gained their freedom, Pibb and Goodwin lost one another. Pibb came to Tabby’s Place, while her Scottish Fold soulmate went to another rescue.

On a day of celebration, Pibb was despondent. She could not listen to the voices of victory rejoicing in the rescue mission. While the other newcomers wriggled with hope in our arms, the little nutmeg tabby could barely look in our eyes.

It is one thing to forget your burning belly, or the sickness that makes you sneeze. It is another to remember the love you have lost.

Tabby’s Place people are acquainted with grief.

We realized Pibb was suffering from more than an infection. Through a sunshower of serendipities, we learned she had been part of a bonded pair, and we tracked Goodwin down. Happy tears hopscotched down every cheek when the two were reunited.

But the calm weather was not to last. This bliss was the hurricane’s eye.

As Pibb and the other survivors grew stronger, Goodwin and kitten Marigold grew weaker. Pneumonia had grabbed them by the tails before they stepped into the sun.

Against all odds, Marigold survived. Despite valiant care, Goodwin slipped away.

“How is Pibb?”

The question poured in the moment I choked out the news. Compassion leapt across continents like lily pads. Strangers soared to the side of a small brown tabby they had never met.

It seemed Pibb broke the whole world’s heart.

I sat stunned at my laptop, awestruck by the wave. I tried to imagine each of your faces, leaning as close as close can be to the cat who had been through too much.

I wondered why you felt her pain as your own. I wondered if you had lost Goodwins, too, soulmates you could not live without until you had no choice. I wondered if you had survived the impossible, only for the skies to soak you just when you thought you were safe.

“How is Pibb?”

While I was fumbling for answers, sunbeams were sprinting to Pibb’s side.

Their name tags say “Volunteer,” but that is only because people might get confused if they said “Sunbeam” or “Prism” or “Force Of Unquenchable Light.” Yet that is what they are, these humble humans who lay on the linoleum, comfort the grieving, and love cats back to life.

Cathy C. spoke softly until Pibb heard her name, soft as the first peek of sun. Rising takes time, and Cathy was in no hurry. Pibb relaxed into Cathy like solid ground.

It can be hard to look into kind eyes after the ones you loved most have closed, but they are where the light gets in. Pibb gathered up her secret hopes and leaned her little body against her new, true friend.

“I just wanted to help her,” Cathy says. “We all understand and have been through loss.”

Beth H. sought Pibb like a searchlight. When you are a Tabby’s Place cat, it is OK if you are too weary to believe in love. Love believes in you, and love is tireless in your pursuit.

Beth sat gently by Pibb’s side, asking nothing but nearness. In the instant it takes for the sky to clear, Pibb’s eyes filled with light.

It was almost like a first meal after a long hunger. First come the hesitant, kibble-by-kibble bites — could this be real? — and then the Cookie Monster frenzy, a full-force feast.

Pibb was no longer just “accepting” attention. Pibb was astonished to realize she was alive, adored, and allowed to feel happy again.

Goodwin was there, like a round Scottish Fold sun beaming with pride. Death is not the end. Goodwin’s love promised Pibb that hope tells the truth.

Goodwin’s love is in the room every time Pibb rises.

Tabby’s Place people were there, too: the ones stroking Pibb’s forehead, and the ones thinking of her from Florida and France. I do not know the physics of love’s travels, only that it jumps the jet stream and laughs at distance.

Many waters cannot drown it. Many miracles happen after all seems lost.

“How is Pibb?”

Pibb is persevering. Pibb is in the presence of light. Pibb’s heart is open, and love is making itself at home.

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