Today, we thank veterans.

They have lived with courage so the world can live in peace.

They have walked lonely roads of unseen sacrifice.

They are shy about applause and accolades, uneasy with the word “hero.”

And then … there are the cats.

The cats are confident that Veteran’s Day is about them. This is not unusual. They are also confident that last Tuesday, Christmas, and your birthday are about them.

But this time, they may be onto something.

Look around Tabby’s Place, and you will realize you are surrounded by veterans.

Olive may not have served in ‘Nam. Peabody and Berry‘s basic training stalled out at strategic shenanigans. Anka interprets another cat’s existence as a formal declaration of war.

We shall not discuss the various forms of “dishonorable discharge” that call forth our volunteers’ valor and mops.

Tabby’s Place may enjoy a perpetual peacetime. But that is only because every cat is a veteran.

Steven, our longest-term resident, is a sixteen-year veteran of veterinarians. He arrived in the fight of his life, five weeks old and as wizened as a raisin.

Our vet team has been his personal vet team ever since, nurturing him from infancy to arthritis.

He has been as wispy as a cheese curl and waddly as a walrus, but our medical staff has borne his weight all the way. Our geriatric ginger cat has never turned snappish. Poked, prodded, and placed on diets, he has persevered in the bravest deed on Earth: remaining kind.

Tootsie is a veteran of going commando, which is to say removing her diaper, repeatedly.

Juel and Shaggy are our Seal Team of silly, soldiers of slaphappy. When it comes to comedy, it is not true that many are called but few are chosen. All are called, but few have the mettle.

It is a heavy responsibility to take yourself lightly. Life on this Earth does not lend itself to mirth.

Skin allergies and chronic rhinitis (characterized by, to use the military term, “snot rockets” bursting mid-air) could have turned Shaggy sour and somber. The indignities of age might have diluted Juel’s joy to gruel.

But these are heroes, not hop-toads. Whatever the day brings, they meet it face-to-face.

They proceed to kiss the day, each other, and anyone in need of kissing, which should cover all of us. Ask not how your country can kiss you, but how you can kiss your country.

Every kitten is a veteran of turning adult humans to squealing gelatin in under thirty seconds.

And where would we be without Hoopla Green, our silent Marine? She is not a cat to parade across your path. You will not hear her medals jangle. But slip into her solarium, and you will understand.

Although she was once fluent in fear, she has become a preeminent translator of time into tenderness. We have respected her boundaries long enough that she trusts she is safe. She knows we are her family. She has mastered the art of accepting acceptance.

If you have ever tried to believe that you are really received exactly as you are, you understand her courage.

Hips is a veteran of intergalactic travel. This is our only explanation for how this extraterrestrial individual arrived in New Jersey.

Murdock has prevailed through baths, prescription-only treats, and demotion from the Lobby (on account of going endlessly AWOL down unauthorized hallways). Yet none of these skirmishes is his greatest victory.

History will remember “Murdock’s War” as one of the greatest battles known to cat.

Our creamsicle captain survived the invasion of Other Cats Receiving Attention. At times, these civilians have even strong-armed their way into a cat stroller, when Murdock has a memorandum proving that he commands the entire fleet.

Can anyone doubt that his patience has saved lives?

Ruby is a veteran of letting stinky boys continue to live. The proper way to honor her sacrifice is to adopt Leo, Taylor Ham, and Winky, so she can establish proper sovereignty over the Lounge.

Yet for all these heroes and legends, one veteran stands apart.

I am, of course, speaking of Trifecta.

Saddled with FIV, FeLV, and diabetes, many a soul would prepare for war. If life can be so barbed, why not retreat to some foxhole and fire resentment at everything living?

But Trifecta has waived the right to ornery ordnance.

With one good eye, he has always seen his calling. It is his mission to love, wherever love is needed.

Perhaps Trifecta was recruited at birth. Some lives are marked with meaning before the first meow. But whenever he first discovered his quest, Trifecta accepted it with his whole heart.

He nuzzles the hands that test his blood glucose. Traveling to nursing homes and cancer support groups, he exults in each face, for they are all veterans, too.

He gives the full measure of his love to his friends as long as they are with him. But if they must depart, like Dewie and Abacus, Trifecta wears their memory like dog tags, bearing their love onward.

He is the kindest cat at Tabby’s Place, which is the same thing as saying he is the bravest.

Love is a veteran of Tabby’s Place, and it protects us all.

Happy Veteran’s Day, dear hearts.

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