With apologies to those groovy long-haired trees in your backyard, the best Willow does not weep.

The best Willow is so busy, she barely has time to sleep.

Do you have any idea how much a kitten has to accomplish before her first birthday?

There is a rigorous syllabus of shenanigans and tomfoolery. Excellence is expected. Jingle balls are not just going to jangle themselves.

There are seven billion humans on the Earth, and all of their lives would be improved by getting to hug you, personally.

There are no days off when you are training for the most important job in the land, “cat.”

There is no time to weep. And since you are a Tabby’s Place kitten, there is no reason to weep.

But even among Tabby’s Place kittens, Willow stands apart.

If you want to get nit-picky about it, Willow doesn’t exactly “stand.” Paralyzed in her hind end, she sits. Her posture is less like the tree by the river, and more like the hop-toad in its shade.

Sometimes, people see her froggy back legs and get a little weepy.

Willow has no idea why people cry when they see her.

Is it because she is so beautiful, they are overcome with awe? Majesty makes people emotional. People weep the first time they hear Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, or see the Grand Canyon, or taste Funyuns.

Maybe they weep for Willow because her splendor makes them feel the glory of life, like they are very small and very important all at once.

Willow thinks this is an acceptable explanation. She endorses it by scooting in figure-eights around your ankles, all silvery love at the speed of lightning.

Or maybe people weep because Willow makes them feel better. When you have had a hard day, and you finally get home to someone who loves you, sometimes the first thing you do is cry.

It could be a cat, a partner, or your MeeMaw, but the kindness in their eyes gives you permission to collapse. Maybe people weep over Willow because she is so warm and welcoming, they feel like they are coming home.

Willow especially likes this explanation.

She peeps and wriggles her approval, hoping you will pick her up and kiss her thirty times in rapid succession. That is a good way to stop weeping. It will also enable her to check you off on her list of people who need to hug her. One down, six hundred ninety-nine billion to go.

But Willow overheard somebody saying they wept because they “felt bad” for her.

That is the one thing Willow cannot abide. She is medically incapable of metabolizing “sad.” Willow was born with back legs that don’t work and empathy that works overtime. She is silky grey gratitude with a beating heart. She is happy, and whole, and perplexed by pity.

Why would anyone weep because she happens to have needs?

I mean, doesn’t everybody have needs? Willow asks this by widening her eyes, green planets all wild with confidence.

She knows she can’t walk. But everybody’s got “something.” Some of Willow’s favorite people have problems with their bowels, or their pancreas, or their fears, or their rotator cuffs, or their self-worth, although she is working on that last one.

Everybody’s got something, but around here, everybody’s got everybody. I mean they’ve really got them, so having “something” turns out to be a good thing.

Willow’s uncooperative legs were her twin tickets to Tabby’s Place. And now that she’s here, everyone is cooperating with love’s master plan.

Willow had the most wonderful foster parent, Jae. Willow has the most wonderful family, which includes you, and me, and that plush manatee named Bello.

Willow has the wonderful task of ranking several hundred brands of salmon.

Willow has the wildest wonder of all: being safe.

Why the heck would she weep, when one minor inconvenience unlocked a whole world of wonderful?

There is so much wonderful, Willow can’t count that high. But, she is still a kitten. She will get back to you on the whole “wonderful quotient” after her first birthday.

And if you are already shopping for Willow’s first birthday, she really only has one request. She will not turn away jingle-jangle balls and the many varieties of salmon. She will accept seven billion hugs from one person (and you are her first choice).

But the big ticket item on Willow’s wish list is for you to stop weeping.

And if you must, weep only because she is wonderful.

More Blog Posts