This post is already off to the wrong start.
It’s not fair to say that the population of Suite FIV is down by one. The number “one” cannot convey the colossal tectonic event that has occurred.
Hold on to your dungarees, because Knickers has been adopted.
That’s right. The toughest of the tender, the most violent of the virtuous, the honey-colored hardscrabbler has left the building.
And Suite FIV is spinning.
That’s not quite right, either. Suite FIV is sleeping in heavenly peace. Suite FIV is fiesta-ing. Suite FIV is thanking all the saints and angels. But Suite FIV is not — not any longer, anyway — spinning.
The spinning and smackdowning has ceased, all thanks to one enormous departure.
Knickers’ arrival, you will recall, initiated the most delicate game of Musical Cats in the history of felinity. At no time could Knickers and Rufus be simultaneously free in the suite. Frankly, at few times could Knickers and any other living cat be simultaneously free in the suite (at least, not if we wished for other living cats to remain living).
Thus began Crate Season, when our cage-free sanctuary reluctantly set up an intricate schedule of caging cats. As long as the right cats were in the right places at the right times, the wrong cats, specifically Knickers, would not be able to do too much wrongdoing.
But much more, Crate Season freed Knickers to do what he does best, which is righteous right-doing of the highest order. Knickers didn’t really want to annihilate all of his neighbors; his yearning was to love humans. OK, I’m wrong again. Knickers did, in fact, earnestly wish to annihilate all of his neighbors, and he thoroughly enjoyed every attempt. But, much more, he enjoyed exuding love for our own species.
Set free in our Timeshare, the small suite where Cats With Issues enjoy spells of personal time, Knickers kicked up his heels with glee. Timeshare Knickers was a lolling lump of love, purring as if in paradise. (And to Knickers, laps — yours, mine, Vladimir Putin’s — are the highest heavens.)
So you can’t blame us — the lap-owners — for being bereft today. Suite FIV may be sleeping in heavenly peace, but we’re spinning with the sweet sadness that comes from a good goodbye. We are forever changed for having loved Knickers; his adopters are forever blessed; and Suite FIV is forever fiesta-ing.
Oh: and, as you might hope, Knickers was adopted as a one-and-only cat.
Long live the king!