I believe I was five when first a member of the animal kingdom joined our family.  A neighbor’s cat gave birth to litter and we (brother, sister, and I), pled case our family could do a good deed by taking in one of the new arrivals.  Promising we’d take on all duties of care and using every angle our young minds could muster, mom and dad eventually relented.  I remember peering over edge of corrugated box at small creatures each vying for attention.  I reckon they were saying pick me.  Our choice was a grey that seemed confident she was the cream.  After another thirty minutes bantering mom’s suggestion of name was agreed upon…Shadow.  Amazing she was and a fine addition to our clan.  She was the first, but not the last beastie to join us.  There were more felines, K-9’s, horses, and even a few fish swam into the picture.  I can’t remember a time in my formative years when our household was without pet.  Given this background, I suppose the following is less surprise than old inclination.

For me, Orange Cat (as my sweetheart christened her) and her story began in 2006.  It was a busy time and as far as I was concerned, caring for another being was not in the cards.  Dead of winter it was, and I was leaving work late, which was not uncommon.  Several inches of snow lay on the ground and I would put the temperature at twenty-five degrees.  The sky was black, but the stars were washed out by man-made light bathing the lot.  My car was fifty yards walk and my mind was occupied by a work problem when a commotion to my right stopped me in my tracks.  I turned to see Orange Cat emerge from garbage can.  She looked me up and down.  I smiled and continued my walk to vehicle.  On my way I turned back to find Orange Cat following, at least partway.  My heart went out to her, but voice in head said “you don’t need an animal.”  I drove away to see her standing in snowy field.  My car warmed after a few minutes travel and my mind drifted to the next tasks—food and sleep.

When passing the two-tone plastic can the next morning I wondered for a moment what happened to Orange Cat, but soon I was involved in the rhythms of the day and thought no more about her.  However, in a “groundhog day” style repeat I left work late and passed same can and out popped Orange Cat.  I doubted my senses for a moment, but there she stood same as before.  No, no, I said and walked on.  Again I turned and she was following, more determined than the night before.  Another thought materialized: what would the man upstairs want me to do?  The answer came quickly.  I walked not to car, but toward Orange Cat.  I scooped her off the tundra and homeward bound were we.

That night and for three days to follow she remained under my king size.  I pushed litter box and food her way and otherwise left her to her own devises.   I discussed my decision with several coworkers the next day and learned Orange Cat was one of a group of kittens born close to the factory.  All but Orange Cat and mother were dead, victims of life in the wild.  This was indication of Orange Cat’s smarts and resourcefulness.

Before long she emerged from safe haven and began making my home hers.  I imagine her life to this point was composed largely of scrapping and fighting to survive.  Now she was warm with no worries of next meal or if coyote was close to finding it’s furry dinner.  The next order of business was a vet visit as she undoubtedly needed attention.  Orange Cat’s purr was so loud the doctor couldn’t hear her heart and employed a trick she said always worked—turn on the tap.  When water streamed, hitting bottom of stainless steel basin, Orange Cat stopped purring immediately.  All was well with her health with exception of two types of worms one common and one not.  It took the better part of a month and near eight-hundred bucks to get her straight, but by that time she was spade and free of all parasites.

She was as trusting a soul as I’ve known.  Greeting all who entered casa with friendly motor running and a barky meow, she wanted all to feel at home.  When daughters were with me, Orange Cat would snuggle beside; when mom and dad were in town she would stay for long periods on father’s lap, and when my girlfriend’s Shaun and Luke visited she rolled on back, paws in air inviting a scratch.  Though she was free with affection, she was no softy, doling fierce rabbit kicks and bites near to breaking skin when we wrestled.  Orange Cat knew what she had—a new lease on life—and never attempted escape.

By any standard she was a magnificent creature and together we weathered all manner of storm; love lost, illness, mom’s journey to heaven, business difficulties, and so on.  Through it all she was there for me and my loved ones and us for her.  As the years wore on she scarcely slowed though we noticed her keen hearing began to waver, that is until one fateful evening upon return from work when I found she had no appetite.  Maybe she’s a bit under the weather I thought, but moments later I found her lying on side mouth open struggling to breath.  I scooped her up has I had that cold snowy night those thirteen years ago when first we met and together we traveled to a vet on call.  It was no feline cold or flu, her lungs had filled with fluid and cancer had a grip.  She was hardly able to take breath.  Doc said she was suffering and with my agreement Orange Cat’s life was gently ended that cold January evening, not so unlike the night she first introduced herself.

Though a month has elapsed since I said goodbye to my orange friend, I still expect her greeting each evening when I arrive.  Just one more reminder that those of us blessed to walk this world should take nothing for granted.  One far off day, I hope to rendezvous with her, for as Saint Francis knew, their spirits come to us by way of heaven.