So you look like a BoyBucca.

So you’re the right age for a boy band.

What are you gonna do with all this awesomeness?

If you’re Oil, you’re going to confuse people, cheerfully.

The questions come consistently:

1. Wait, did you say “Oil”? Like Canola? Wha…?
2. His profile says he’s eighteen years old. You’re gonna correct that, right?

We answer humbly, honestly:

1. Yeah. Just glide with it.
2. We would, if it was wrong.

Old enough to vote, with a loony, lardy name, Oil has slicked his way into the center of eighteen thousand hearts (give or take). Since landing in our lobby, this old man has played one billion songs of sweet sweet love (precisely one billion). And he’s done it so debonairly, so delightfully, that he can’t help but confuse everyone when it comes to age.

Let’s start all superficial, shall we? Just check out Oil’s coat. With neither the old-geezer grease that often comes with age and its “I don’t give a glob about grooming” attitude; nor the crusted-on film of fish mush perfected by fellow greybeards (here’s lookin’ at you, Cornell), Oil is one exquisite specimen of a cat.

Even at the equivalent of 88 years of age, Oil would be an easy pick for the Man of Style page of InStyle. Sorry, Michael Caine and Sidney Poitier; the most gorgeous gent over 80 resides in Ringoes, NJ.

But life is lots more than looks, and Oil’s awesomeness far exceeds his attractiveness. He’d love for you to admire him, sure; but, far more, he’d love to inspire you to greater, sturdier joy.

In fact, if our big-eyed, Bucca-colored cat had to be contained in a single word, it might be merriment.

He lost the only home he knew; he moved into a Lobby full of jokers and clowns; he has to deal with humans like yours truly on a daily basis.

And still, Oil exudes a fine mist of merriment at all times.

Trotting through the lobby on his still-strong legs; feasting on food whenever it arrives; and rubbing into you with his full strength, Oil is overflowing with elation. He’s happy over every taste of happiness this world offers him. And somehow, that satisfied soul seems to keep attracting more…well, merriment. You know, that whole “smile and the world smiles with you” kinda thing. (But if you need to cry, Oil is just the man to dry your tears. And once he does, your salt water will hit his Oil and evaporate into oily awesome merriment.)

Thirsty for hope? Bring your empty vessel to the Tabby’s Place Lobby. One elderly cat offers you a bottomless well of the milk of kindness, the elixir of youth, and the Oil of merry merry mirth.

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