Carrot is a root.

The first recorded evidence of Carrot is from 900 AD.

Carrot contains 73% of your recommended daily allowance of Vitamin A.

Carrot fact-checked this message and said, “good to go!”

But that is the trouble with Carrot, admittedly the only trouble with Carrot. “Good to go!” is Carrot’s default answer.

Life itself is the question, and Carrot’s life was in question when we first learned his name. To be honest, I am softening the circumstances. Carrot’s life was not in question. Carrot’s life had slipped right off the curl of the question mark, into the dot on the bottom.

The year was 2015.

Now you understand why I reference the early Middle Ages. In the year 2015, avocado toast was a fresh idea. No one had ever spoken the word “Barbenheimer.” Quinn’s Corner was not yet a dream. The world was young.

And the root of all enthusiasm was on the euthanasia table.

Less than a year old, Carrot was a New York City boy running out of minutes. The details were as limp as his tail, but this much came through the breathless phone call: A car hit a stray. There would be no comeback of continence. There would be no tomorrow if something did not split the earth today.

This has always been the Tabby’s Place way.

The cat who roots for everyone was plucked from sorrow’s soil.

Carrot could control neither his bladder nor his exuberance. He was not afraid of new faces, or even New Jersey. Everywhere he looked, Carrot saw only gardens.

We were as goopy as green peas when Carrot arrived. Human beings are soggy vegetables who boil in our own indignation. How dare the world give up on young cats, simply because their bladders are blinkered. How dare time run out, when it takes time to grow good Carrots. How dare–

–Carrot would not let us waste time on indignation.

Carrot had come, which meant everything was “good to go!”

There were shoulders for hugging and foreheads for bonking. There was a solarium for scampering and cats for infatuating. There was life for loving madly.

There was a sea of peas that go perfectly with Carrots.

Common carrots may provide Vitamin A, but the root of all enthusiasm recruited the full alphabet. Carrot was vitamin C, citric with neon cheer. If you had a cold, or your heart was in danger of going cold, Carrot was your supplement. Every grey face turned clementine in Carrot’s presence.

Carrot was vitamin D, a tablet of sunshine. Winter days were “good to go!” Summer days were “good to go!” Quiet contemplation was as welcome as any ruckus.

Carrot was ginkgo biloba, sparking every feeble mind and fearful heart. Fifteen minutes of direct exposure to Carrot was enough to jog every memory you ever misplaced, so long as they were good.

Carrot cajoled your childhood dreams out from their cubbies. Carrot befriended your belief that the world turns on kindness. Carrot reached all the way back to 900 AD, where you had hidden your hope that good can come from bad.

Carrot could not express his own bladder, but he expressed his opinion: there is not a living creature who is not “good to go!” in the green eyes of love.

Naturally, we could not keep the root of all enthusiasm underground.

Carrot became one of the most celebrated counselors in our Aged to Purrfection troupe. Dressed in a jaunty Therapy Cat bandanna, he journeyed off-campus to bring his rumpus to residents of nursing homes. He was a favorite, because he convinced each resident that they were still love’s favorite.

Carrot was our favorite everything.

But incontinence is not adopters’ favorite attribute.

Can you blame us for assuming Carrot was firmly rooted in our garden? We are just a bunch of peas, mushy in heart and head. We forget that the light can turn green, even when you are getting on in years.

Carrot did not forget.

Carrot saw them coming down the decade.

And now, they are here.

They are tenderness with tenacity. They are open eyes and undaunted hearts. They are love that has taken its vitamins.

They are Carrot’s forever family, and they are too good to be true.

But that is the trouble with AwesomeAdopters, admittedly the only trouble with AwesomeAdopters. While the drowsy world sleeps, they dig up the goalposts of “true” and move them wider.

And so the garden grows.

All the mushy peas are extra salty today, soaking in our own tears. We are thrilled for Carrot. We are not heartbroken but heart-mended, though sometimes it is hard to tell the difference.

We are different than we were in 2015.

Congratulations, our darling Carrot. You are good to go!

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