Some cats live their lives on cruise control.

Others put the “eek” in “control freak.”

Then there are those cats (and humans) for whom privacy is their middle name, but their last name is control. And, no, their first name ain’t “baby,” it’s “Adam”…Mr. Rosenberg if you’re nasty. (Remember that every Tabby’s Place cat has the last name “Rosenberg.”)

Adam is a cat in cool control. When he came to Tabby’s Place, it was Adam’s first order of business to convince the human beans that he was a Wild Savage Beast. A few hell-beast-esque shrieks, a few wild swats and “LOOK AT MY ANGRY MOLARS!” bite attempts, and his mission was accomplished. Adam earned a “CAUTION” cage card and a reputation rippling out of quarantine.

But reputation management was only a kernel of Adam’s controlled plan. It turns out our newest tabby could teach Kim Kardashian a thing or two about managing one’s own personal “brand.” Adam’s second order of business was establishing the right name. The shelter from which Adam came had named him Buddy. Nothing wrong with that, of course; Buddy is a perfectly serviceable, inoffensive name. Never mind that Adam might have preferred something along the lines of Dr. Octagon or Zerubbabel or Lothar – Buddy he became.

But only briefly.

I don’t know quite how he did it, but I’m not privileged to many things about cats and their powers. Even before his arrival, Buddy was working on our volunteers…namely, one named Adam. On an otherwise ordinary Wednesday, Adam fired off an e-mail to me.

Hey, Angela. Can we name the next incontinent cat Adam?

Now, lest you think our volunteers are an odd bunch, let me clarify: our volunteers are an exceedingly odd bunch, out-odded only by our staff. Here was a bright and talented young man asking to bestow his name upon a cat who pees and poops uncontrollably and everywhere.

I may be a lot of things, but I’m not one to disappoint someone with such a noble request. The plea scampered up the chain of command to Jonathan, and the team was unanimous: Buddy would become Adam.

This leads me to the one irony about Adam. For a cat in such calm, cool command of his situation, he lacks just one kind of control.

His bowels.

Actually, make that two: number one and number two. Adam (the cat) is entirely incontinent.

Happily, the big-eyed tabby suffers no further health issues – and not an inch of shame – so this is no concern of his. He joins the vaunted ranks of such esteemed “inappropriators” as Peachy, Mango, Hootz and Dot. It’s a fine way to make a reputation for oneself. And, except in rare and spectacular cases, it’s a fine way to guarantee yourself a life-long stay at Tabby’s Place.

Yep, Adam’s in complete control.

This was decisively proven when his Quarantine period ended this past week. All of a sudden, the hell-beasty biter became…well, Tom Jones + Barry White + Enrique Iglesias. Mr. Lover was here to stay. (If you’re keeping track, that means Adam’s name is now something along the lines of Adam Buddy Privacy Lover Rosenberg Control. It has a nice ring to it.) The molar-baring days are gone; the exuberant hugs are here.

If Adam were not feline, he might be risking lawsuits by the way he throws himself at human beans. Is it your first time meeting him? Expect his paws on your chest, his face in your face, his personal space fused with your personal space. Once you hear that purr and breathe in that love, you’re a goner.

Once again, Adam is in control.

Yes, incontinence tends to be the kiss of death for adopters. And, yes, Adam is completely and totally incontinent. But for a cat in such command of all he surveys, there are no limits. Adam will only be a Tabby’s Place lifer if he wants to be.

But I already know my selfish wish. Mr. Lover Control, you are welcome to stay with us for the totality of your reign.

Special thanks to one of our favorite PWhAM, devoted volunteer John M, for these stellar photos of Adam. Be sure to check out John’s outstanding blog, It’s All Good, for your guaranteed daily dose of joy.

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