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I don’t typically write eulogies for adopted cats. But there was nothing typical about Crinkle Bob.
Once or twice in each generation, a champion is born. She may be meek or wild. He may be golden or homely. They may never be recognized for their sacrifices. They will always face the Champion’s Choice.
Never let anyone tell you that cats are immune to New Year’s resolutions. The moment applications opened to drive the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile, the Tabby’s Place cats instantly, collectively developed goals. Resolved to support them, I have just signed 100 reference letters.
I have no idea what this sign (spotted in Princeton) technically means (and I’d rather meditate on its mysteries than Google it; some questions are better than answers). But I know this: life is a Muster Zone.
When you fall over (and it is “when,” not “if”), what do you spill out? Anger? Compassion? Resentment that you are not eating enough mini meatballs? (I will let you guess which two out of those three apply to cats.)
One of the greatest moments of my life is recreating itself as we speak. No one should be so lucky as to live through this twice. But then, no one could ever deserve the delight of knowing Crinkle Bob.