Riddle me this: what do you do when you’ve exhausted the word “awesome” and need something stronger?
We’re gonna have to start coining our own verbiage here, folks, because the adopters just keep getting more magnificent.
Anyone who adopts a cat from Tabby’s Place gets the immediate and lifelong privilege of being called awesome. I highly encourage all such adopters to make use of their privilege at every opportunity. (Example: You are a Tabby’s Place adopter. You go to Cheeburger Cheeburger and they are out of banana milkshakes. Appropriate response: “Pardon me, but I am awesome. Kindly assent to my awesomeness by going to Walmart, obtaining bananas and milking them for me. Thank you.”)
Anyone who adopts a Special Needs cat from Tabby’s Place is a special breed of awesome. (If you’re in this class, you should probably call Cheeburger Cheeburger ahead of time, so they know to get the trumpeters ready and greet you with appropriate pageantry.)
Adopt two Special Needs cats from Tabby’s Place? Well, now you’re in a league of awesome where you should probably have your own gilded throne. Or at least a wafflemaker.
But my words fail me when I try to describe the kind of awesome person who adopts two Special Needs cats from Tabby’s Place…then adds a third, exceedingly desperate cat when literal disaster strikes. Fortunately, my insufficient words can stop here, as I’ll let UltraAdopter Jenny tell the tale:
“It’s been a year since the two darling Tabby’s Place boys, Magnum and Terrence, moved in and adopted me.
“From the first wake-up-mommy leap on my stomach, to the nightly snuggle-purrs by my ears as we drift off to sleep, their love and companionship have been a treasure.
“Now a new little kitty, Petunia, has joined us, from the foster home that Terrence originally came from. This foster family was badly hit by Hurricane Sandy out in Long Island, and the storm left them with 45 dear cats to save. I was so glad to be able to help in some small way by adding Petunia (who, like Terrence and Magnum, is FIV+) to my family.
“Born without a proper meow, Petunia makes herself heard with a powerful rasp. She has become the primary food demander at breakfast, allowing Magnum and Terrence to sit by as she paces frenetically by my legs to urge me to dispense the plates more quickly.
“Magnum and Terrence continue to thrive, and Petunia has thoroughly settled in. Everybody is getting along quite well, and the only time it’s a little hairy is while breakfast is being fed. But both Petunia and Terrence now know to keep out of Magnum’s way until the food has been served!”
Awesome? Too weak. Luminous? Getting there.
Love in action? You betcha.
Petunia may not technically be a Tabby’s Place cat, but Jenny, you are most assuredly a Tabby’s Place human. (So that means we get to be related to Petunia too. Winning.) To you we tip our hats, our banana milkshakes and our hearts full of gratitude.