Another Nice Read from Chapter 4
HAVANA BROWN
By Lisa Tiano
Our windows get a serious workout. We live in a small town in upstate New York, where we see a profusion of wildlife – wild turkeys, pheasants, skunks, foxes, opossums, raccoons, white tail deer, and the occasional bear. So it’s not unusual for us to see an unknown cat or dog wandering about. Although our town has a leash law, as anyone who has ever owned a dog will tell you, sometimes “Rover” chooses to take a stroll alone, especially when no one is looking.
We’ve always been a cat family. Therein lies this tale.
We have the distinct honor of sharing our home with two cats. Sam is a handsome, solid black, 11-year-old gentleman with the manners of a prime minister and the disposition of a saint. Sam weighs in at sixteen pounds. Puffin, who is 15-years old, is a little lady of seven pounds with long gray and white hair. When she came to live with us, she was starving and her nose appeared far too big for her face – that’s how she got the name “Puffin.” Puffin has since filled out, but the name has stuck. She knows full well that she is a princess, and she expects everyone else to realize this fact and behave accordingly.
Sam and Puffin are our welcoming committee for all those who venture onto our property. There have been many over the years, some who stopped by for a quick meal, others who stayed until we found them homes, and yet others who simply moved in and stayed. We are well-versed in the ways of cats.
But when a chocolate-brown cat first appeared in our rear lot, it seemed as though he was just passing through the neighborhood. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. We figured he was a new comer to the neighborhood, taking a ‘get-acquainted” stroll. After several sightings, we checked with our neighbors to see if anyone knew him. They all said they had seen him, but no one claimed ownership or knew where he came from.
We kept track of his comings and goings for a month or so, but never came close to the house. He continued on his usual path. After a while, he did come a little closer, and we were able to see this new wanderer better – a solid chocolate-brown color, with a rough and dull coat, and very thin. We also determined that he was indeed a male. After checking with our local vets and our Cat Encyclopedia, we decided he was a Havana Brown cat. That’s not a cat you see on the loose in our neck of the woods.
We put out food for him, but it was clear he had no intention of coming any closer to humans, no matter how hungry he might be. So we moved the dish to the end of the sidewalk and hastily retreated inside, out of sight. After several minutes, he approached the dish and ate hungrily. Everyday after that, we moved the dish a little closer to the house. When it was about two feet from the door, Brownie decided this was close enough, and he wouldn’t come another step. We continued feeding him for many weeks. As soon as he devoured his food and drink, he vanished. In a blink, he was gone – truly a “will o’ the wisp.”
We fed him all through the late summer and into fall. We tried every way we could think to lure him closer, but, alas, it was not to be. By late fall, we were really concerned about him, with the winter approaching. Suddenly, Brownie stopped coming altogether. Not a sign of him for more than a month.
Happily, a couple of days before Christmas, there was Brownie. He looked so much better. His coat was smooth and shiny, and he was fairly plump. We wondered whether he had found his home, or if someone else was feeding him. But just as suddenly as he had reappeared, he disappeared again. We feared the worst, because it was now winter and the weather was terrible.
One evening in spring, we heard a noise outside a casement window. Sure enough, there was Brownie, on top of our picnic table. Somehow he had survived the winter – how and where, we’ll never know. But Brownie was now in very bad shape. His coat was scruffy and both of his eyes were infected. He was extremely thin and weak. He could hardly stand. 9how he ever jumped onto that table was a mystery to us.)
As soon as we opened the window, he drew away. Slowly, we reached out to him and he allowed us to touch him. After several minutes of stroking him gently and speaking softly to him, we picked him up. Every muscle in that little body was hard as a rock, and he was trembling. Can you imagine the courage it took for that little creature at long last to trust us?
Quietly, I sat down and placed Brownie in my lap. Very slowly, I could feel the trembling begin to stop and those tight, little muscles begin to relax. After caressing and talking softly to him for about an hour, he fell asleep. He slept for a long time. When he awoke, we offered him some food, which he seemed to want badly. But he was having trouble either eating or swallowing – we couldn’t tell which. He did drink greedily, though, and we knew what that meant.
Again, I picked him up and settled him in my lap. To my great surprise, I could feel slight vibrations from his throat. Brownie was trying to purr.
Since Brownie badly needed the attention of a veterinarian, we made an appointment for the next day. The vet determined Brownie had leukemia and AIDS. He advised us to help Brownie go. It broke our hearts, but we had to think of Brownie, not ourselves. The vet also discovered Brownie had a broken jaw. It looked like someone had kicked him.
We believe the only reason returned to us and allowed us to touch him was that he knew he needed our help. The courage it took for this little creature to take his chances with us – after what some cruel, two-legged beast had done to him – was monumental. Considering that we had been feeding and trying to coax him to us for more than a year, he must have had some dreadful experiences with human beings.
This needles tragedy saddened us greatly, but we will never forget Brownie. Perhaps if we had convinced him to trust us sooner, we could have saved him. Who knows? What we do know is that there are cruel, terrible people in this world. We know, too, that you must keep your animals in control and in sight at all times. If this sad tale makes just one pet owner more aware, then Brownie’s short, tragic life will have achieved a worthwhile purpose.
By Lisa Tiano
Our windows get a serious workout. We live in a small town in upstate New York, where we see a profusion of wildlife – wild turkeys, pheasants, skunks, foxes, opossums, raccoons, white tail deer, and the occasional bear. So it’s not unusual for us to see an unknown cat or dog wandering about. Although our town has a leash law, as anyone who has ever owned a dog will tell you, sometimes “Rover” chooses to take a stroll alone, especially when no one is looking.
We’ve always been a cat family. Therein lies this tale.
We have the distinct honor of sharing our home with two cats. Sam is a handsome, solid black, 11-year-old gentleman with the manners of a prime minister and the disposition of a saint. Sam weighs in at sixteen pounds. Puffin, who is 15-years old, is a little lady of seven pounds with long gray and white hair. When she came to live with us, she was starving and her nose appeared far too big for her face – that’s how she got the name “Puffin.” Puffin has since filled out, but the name has stuck. She knows full well that she is a princess, and she expects everyone else to realize this fact and behave accordingly.
Sam and Puffin are our welcoming committee for all those who venture onto our property. There have been many over the years, some who stopped by for a quick meal, others who stayed until we found them homes, and yet others who simply moved in and stayed. We are well-versed in the ways of cats.
But when a chocolate-brown cat first appeared in our rear lot, it seemed as though he was just passing through the neighborhood. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. We figured he was a new comer to the neighborhood, taking a ‘get-acquainted” stroll. After several sightings, we checked with our neighbors to see if anyone knew him. They all said they had seen him, but no one claimed ownership or knew where he came from.
We kept track of his comings and goings for a month or so, but never came close to the house. He continued on his usual path. After a while, he did come a little closer, and we were able to see this new wanderer better – a solid chocolate-brown color, with a rough and dull coat, and very thin. We also determined that he was indeed a male. After checking with our local vets and our Cat Encyclopedia, we decided he was a Havana Brown cat. That’s not a cat you see on the loose in our neck of the woods.
We put out food for him, but it was clear he had no intention of coming any closer to humans, no matter how hungry he might be. So we moved the dish to the end of the sidewalk and hastily retreated inside, out of sight. After several minutes, he approached the dish and ate hungrily. Everyday after that, we moved the dish a little closer to the house. When it was about two feet from the door, Brownie decided this was close enough, and he wouldn’t come another step. We continued feeding him for many weeks. As soon as he devoured his food and drink, he vanished. In a blink, he was gone – truly a “will o’ the wisp.”
We fed him all through the late summer and into fall. We tried every way we could think to lure him closer, but, alas, it was not to be. By late fall, we were really concerned about him, with the winter approaching. Suddenly, Brownie stopped coming altogether. Not a sign of him for more than a month.
Happily, a couple of days before Christmas, there was Brownie. He looked so much better. His coat was smooth and shiny, and he was fairly plump. We wondered whether he had found his home, or if someone else was feeding him. But just as suddenly as he had reappeared, he disappeared again. We feared the worst, because it was now winter and the weather was terrible.
One evening in spring, we heard a noise outside a casement window. Sure enough, there was Brownie, on top of our picnic table. Somehow he had survived the winter – how and where, we’ll never know. But Brownie was now in very bad shape. His coat was scruffy and both of his eyes were infected. He was extremely thin and weak. He could hardly stand. 9how he ever jumped onto that table was a mystery to us.)
As soon as we opened the window, he drew away. Slowly, we reached out to him and he allowed us to touch him. After several minutes of stroking him gently and speaking softly to him, we picked him up. Every muscle in that little body was hard as a rock, and he was trembling. Can you imagine the courage it took for that little creature at long last to trust us?
Quietly, I sat down and placed Brownie in my lap. Very slowly, I could feel the trembling begin to stop and those tight, little muscles begin to relax. After caressing and talking softly to him for about an hour, he fell asleep. He slept for a long time. When he awoke, we offered him some food, which he seemed to want badly. But he was having trouble either eating or swallowing – we couldn’t tell which. He did drink greedily, though, and we knew what that meant.
Again, I picked him up and settled him in my lap. To my great surprise, I could feel slight vibrations from his throat. Brownie was trying to purr.
Since Brownie badly needed the attention of a veterinarian, we made an appointment for the next day. The vet determined Brownie had leukemia and AIDS. He advised us to help Brownie go. It broke our hearts, but we had to think of Brownie, not ourselves. The vet also discovered Brownie had a broken jaw. It looked like someone had kicked him.
We believe the only reason returned to us and allowed us to touch him was that he knew he needed our help. The courage it took for this little creature to take his chances with us – after what some cruel, two-legged beast had done to him – was monumental. Considering that we had been feeding and trying to coax him to us for more than a year, he must have had some dreadful experiences with human beings.
This needles tragedy saddened us greatly, but we will never forget Brownie. Perhaps if we had convinced him to trust us sooner, we could have saved him. Who knows? What we do know is that there are cruel, terrible people in this world. We know, too, that you must keep your animals in control and in sight at all times. If this sad tale makes just one pet owner more aware, then Brownie’s short, tragic life will have achieved a worthwhile purpose.
posted by catseyes @ 4:25 PM
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