We don’t believe in black magic at Tabby’s Place.
Black-and-white magic, on the other hand, is alive and well.
At least, that’s the case if by “magic” we mean “fabulosity.” And we do. Oh, we do.
Exhibit A: the inscrutable, impenetrable Jennifer Ann. The growliest of the octet that came during Snowtober, our tough little moll has only slightly softened with age and kidney disease. She’ll sit quietly and accept some affection (and life-saving subcutaneous fluids) from the hand of Ginny when her head is covered just so with a towel. (That’s Jennifer Ann’s head, not Ginny’s.)
But purring was not part of JenAnn’s plate.
Wasn’t. Past tense.
Enter a Certain Volunteer and a certain snip of black-and-white wisdom.
Certain Volunteer is so passionate about teaching our cats how to love that he does extracurricular research on cat socialization. He then employs what he’s learned, combined with an innate kindness, to work regular miracles with our scaredy-cats and angry-cats. Recently, Certain Volunteer was reading up on the mad skillz of the feral cat wranglers at Stanford University. They’ve learned a sneaky, successful trick for petting the unpettables. Apparently, if you take one of those long, fleecy wand toys and start skritching the cat with the fleece part, then sloooooooooowly work your hand up towards the top, you can gradually get in some bona fide neck skritches with your actual fingers (and, as a bonus, keep said fingers).
The intrepid Certain Volunteer decided to try this with JenAnn today. Given JenAnn’s hissy, spitty, savage history, this took a certain amount of courage. (Exact amount: one aircraft carrier full of courage.) But, by the time Certain Volunteer’s hand made it to JenAnn’s shoulder, Jennifer Ann was purring.
Purring. That deep, divine vibration of joy. That matchless rumbling that emanates from the Pit Of Happy.
Be it known: Jennifer Ann has a Pit Of Happy. It just took a certain patience and a certain grace to draw it out.
I must note that Certain Volunteer explicitly asked me not to shower him with accolades or praise on this blog. So I won’t mention this humble soul’s name. I will only say that it may or may not rhyme with Bohn Zoore, and his certain outstanding blog may or may not be found here.
But that’s not the only black-and-white whimsy leaping from the Tabby’s Place hat this Friday. Down the hall from JenAnn’s Pit of Happy (which should be marked on any future maps of Tabby’s Place), a certain Philippa has decided to let it all hang out.
There was a time in the not-too-distant past when Philippa was as controlled and concerned as a new royal. She minded her Ps and Qs, dotted her Is and crossed her Ts and never, ever let ’em see her sweat. Or smile. Or stretch. Philippa was noble, nervous and unnaturally anxious.
As you can see, the prim ice queen has become…well, a pin-up girl. Yet even these glamour shots don’t do justice to Pip’s glorious new ease with herself, with her Tabby’s Place (oh yes, this is her place), and with her human servants. You can bet Philippa’s own Pit Of Happy is ready to rumble.
I leave you with a final taste of black-and-white bliss. One warning: this photo smorgasbord is going to leave you wanting s’more. Ralph and S’mores, that is. Special thanks to their forever family for sharing the boys’ goofy, giddy, gloriously well-loved life with us in photos.
And thanks to you, Felis Catus folks, for the prayers and support that make all the miracles possible – be they black-and-white, orange or calico. Have a delicious weekend.