My Valentine
Here I sit. His collar wraps around my left wrist. His oversized heart shaped dark red tag proudly claiming he was my Valentine. His bell rings occasionally as I type.
He resided as the former stud of the feral colony between my employer’s parking lot and an urban creek. He injured his rear leg, likely from contact with a vehicle. My efforts to capture him for TNR increased. He managed to escape all my prior attempts. Days earlier, he sat on the other side of a chain link fence. His back and face fur covered in frost and ice from freezing rain. Clearly, he had a family earlier in his life. It was easy to see he had higher interest in people than do most cats. He would not step up to the fence to take the ham from my breakfast sandwich.
A friend of feral cats provided me a larger Hav-A-Heart to catch this 15-pound strong male. It was Valentine’s Day and the larger trap rode across the rear seat for the one-hour trip into work. As a single male, I was bored and nauseous of all the “Obligatory Romance Day” noise emanating from a radio station that was supposed to be talk and commercial free. With a raised voice, I admonished the radio and DJ (a friend of mine) and extolled that all I wanted was music. I promised I would call the big brown tabby male Valentine if only he would step into the larger cage today.
By noon he stepped into the cage.
A few weeks later, I needed to integrate this new foster into my cats. My first cat FurBall was frail and I held her in my arms. As the phone rang, she jumped from my arms to the desk. I turned around as my old girl jumped to the floor were the big semi feral male had been placed. I yelled “Please don’t hurt her" as I ran around the desk. There the big boy was gently grooming my gentle old girl. In the confusion, the door opened and my strongest male that was always seeking any chance to attack FurBall came into the room. He rushed her, only to be blocked by the new large tabby staring eye to eye and protecting my old girl. Rather than being placed for adoption, this boy earned a place in my home.
For more than a dozen years, when it would rain, I would find him up against a glass door. He would look up at me, as if remembering the freezing rain on his face and coat. He always seemed happy being an indoor cat, and not in the cold.
I have been blessed with 4 cats, that although varying in age when they joined me, lived to be between 15 and almost 20 years of age. Each vastly different than the others. Nature provided me with the most wonderful gifts and lessons in friendship, awe, beauty, caring, and understanding.
Today I move Valentine’s records from my active cats health portfolio, to my former friends portfolio.
As I have for the others, I will lock his collar and tags into the three-ring binder. The first collar I locked was FurBall’s. Early the next morning, Valentine had jumped to the desk, unlocked the binder rings and with his teeth carried my FurBall’s collar to me.
Here I sit. His collar wraps around my left wrist. His oversized heart shaped dark red tag proudly claiming he was my Valentine. His bell rings occasionally as I type.
He resided as the former stud of the feral colony between my employer’s parking lot and an urban creek. He injured his rear leg, likely from contact with a vehicle. My efforts to capture him for TNR increased. He managed to escape all my prior attempts. Days earlier, he sat on the other side of a chain link fence. His back and face fur covered in frost and ice from freezing rain. Clearly, he had a family earlier in his life. It was easy to see he had higher interest in people than do most cats. He would not step up to the fence to take the ham from my breakfast sandwich.
A friend of feral cats provided me a larger Hav-A-Heart to catch this 15-pound strong male. It was Valentine’s Day and the larger trap rode across the rear seat for the one-hour trip into work. As a single male, I was bored and nauseous of all the “Obligatory Romance Day” noise emanating from a radio station that was supposed to be talk and commercial free. With a raised voice, I admonished the radio and DJ (a friend of mine) and extolled that all I wanted was music. I promised I would call the big brown tabby male Valentine if only he would step into the larger cage today.
By noon he stepped into the cage.
A few weeks later, I needed to integrate this new foster into my cats. My first cat FurBall was frail and I held her in my arms. As the phone rang, she jumped from my arms to the desk. I turned around as my old girl jumped to the floor were the big semi feral male had been placed. I yelled “Please don’t hurt her" as I ran around the desk. There the big boy was gently grooming my gentle old girl. In the confusion, the door opened and my strongest male that was always seeking any chance to attack FurBall came into the room. He rushed her, only to be blocked by the new large tabby staring eye to eye and protecting my old girl. Rather than being placed for adoption, this boy earned a place in my home.
For more than a dozen years, when it would rain, I would find him up against a glass door. He would look up at me, as if remembering the freezing rain on his face and coat. He always seemed happy being an indoor cat, and not in the cold.
I have been blessed with 4 cats, that although varying in age when they joined me, lived to be between 15 and almost 20 years of age. Each vastly different than the others. Nature provided me with the most wonderful gifts and lessons in friendship, awe, beauty, caring, and understanding.
Today I move Valentine’s records from my active cats health portfolio, to my former friends portfolio.
As I have for the others, I will lock his collar and tags into the three-ring binder. The first collar I locked was FurBall’s. Early the next morning, Valentine had jumped to the desk, unlocked the binder rings and with his teeth carried my FurBall’s collar to me.
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