Football, Fairy Tales, and Felines—Marino Finds Self-Confidence

Marino Blanchett was not adapting to his new home.

A rescue cat with a rare sexual development disorder, he had been subjected to embarrassing exams and peed uncontrollably, which confined him to a bathroom. When he was allowed out, his sisters, Mittens and Messi, came after him.

Unlike his namesake, Dan Marino, former quarterback of the Miami Dolphins, the feline avoided engagement. With his tail tucked between his hindquarters, he often ran for cover, like a quarterback fending off a sack.

His concerned stewards, Nancy and Rick, took different approaches to address his conflict-averse behavior.

Nancy went shopping. She discovered that putting a shirt on a distraught cat is similar to swaddling an infant. The constant, gentle pressure to the torso is like a continuous hug that can reduce anxiety, fear, and over-arousal. Some cats fall asleep shortly after putting it on.

Rick, meanwhile, headed to his bookshelf. He had known of studies that proved the positive effect of feline-human interactions on people, but he had also heard that the effect works in both directions. Animal shelters often use reading programs for anxious or fearful cats. A calm, human voice can significantly reduce stress and facilitate socialization.

“If it’s good enough for shelters,” Rick concluded, “it’s good enough for us. I’m going to read to you, Marino.”

Marino raised his ears, flicked his tail, and slow-blinked his eyes. Rick started with a bedtime story from Ten Fractured Fairy Tales by Mary Lou Williams—not the swing and bebop icon of the mid-20th century, but the Fort Myers raconteur who had mesmerized Rick with her 2023 Tellabration storytelling performance.

In stories like “Rumpelstiltskin Rap” and “Beauty and the Beast: A Tale of Transmogrification,” Ms. Williams fractures the original plots and characters and reassembles them to update the universal truths embedded in the classics.

Rick started with “Kermit, the Frog Prince.” Marino identified with Kermit, an ugly frog who offered to retrieve Princess Charlotte’s golden ball—for a price. After all, Marino often tried to cajole his way into his mean sisters’ hearts.

The princess offered the frog her crown and jewels. Dismissing material wealth, Kermit instead requested she cherish him forever. He asked, “to eat from your golden plate, drink from your silver cup, and sleep in your silken bed.”

The princess, desiring instant gratification, agreed to the terms simply to get her toy back. Of course, when Kermit showed up at the castle that evening, Charlotte reneged.

But her father, the king, insisted she honor the pact. Reluctantly, the princess complied. The frog then hopped onto her golden plate and landed in the mashed potatoes.

“He sank to the bottom,” Rick read, “blissfully stuffing his face.”

Marino loved that image, though he had no idea what mashed potatoes looked or tasted like. But he knew that snuggling in Rick’s shoes made him feel warm and wanted, so he understood Kermit’s bliss.

Rick went on to read that after dinner, the princess watched in horror as Kermit “waddled over to the couch with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other” to watch a football game between the Georgia Bullfrogs and the Florida Gators. Rick, naturally, cheered for the Gators; Marino, with his tail twitching, the Bullfrogs.

Princess Charlotte, however, drew the line on sharing her bed with a frog. Kermit insisted that it was the only way to break the spell that the Brothers Grimm had cast upon him.

“My talents are wasted being arm candy for princesses,” he said.

Charlotte, in turn, revealed that the Grimms had doomed princesses to being “insipid, vapid, and passive.”

“I want to take my fate into my own hands,” she said. So, she did just that, throwing the frog into a wall.

“From the slimy green puddle,” Rick read, “emerged a tall, dark, handsome hunk.”

“Do you think I can become a tall, dark, handsome hunk?” purred Marino, a glimmer of hope emanating from his green eyes.

“Well,” Rick said slowly, “Dan Marino had something to say about that.”

He turned the feline Marino around so that they faced each other.

“You have to feel you’re the best at what you do,” Rick said, quoting the football great. “You don’t have to come out and say it. But you have to know it within yourself.”

For the first time in his life, Feline Marino felt the reassurance of self-knowledge pulsing like a giant hug through his shirt. He channeled his namesake, affirming that he was the best cat he could be. As his confidence grew, he began to prowl his surroundings. He learned to pee in a litter box. He became an integrated member of the household.

Now, when Mittens and Messi instigate trouble, Feline Marino struts around with his tail upright before leaping on the back of the couch. Then, with a roar (or is it a yawn?), he summons Rick to tell him a bedtime story.

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