Valentine Comes Back
Valentine, my cat, got out last Sunday. We didn't know immediately, and mostly couldn't find him even when we did know.
Last night, he finally returned, coming inside, where he and we feel he really belongs, and really is safe. {Smile}
Yesterday, around dinner, which was around 9:30 or 10:00 because we’ve been having dinner unfashionably late this year, Dad heard meowing outside in the carport. He rushed to the door as fast as his crutch would let him, but couldn’t spot the cat. He came away discouraged, saying it was too low pitched for Valentine anyway. (Valentine has a surprisingly high-pitched voice, considering he’s a big cat. He’s two feet long from nose to rump, with another 14 inches of tail… and he’s a tenor by cat standards. {wink})
Then, while he was getting ready for bed, Dad heard the same low-pitched meowing at the carport door. “Wait a moment, kitty, and I’ll open the door for you!” he called. He popped out of the new bathroom and into the playroom, where I was waiting for him to come out and go to bed. “Open the door! I heard a cat!” he told me.
“This door?” I asked, gesturing towards the carport door as I started to walk towards it.
“Yes,” Dad said, hurrying as fast as his crutch lets him.
I opened the wooden door, then opened the screen door. I had work slowly at the latter because something was pushing on the screen door…
…Until there was enough space for Valentine to walk around it and right into the house.
“It’s Valentine! He’s home!” I cried, half choked up with tears of happiness. He was walking with a slight limp, and had a dark crease in the white fur of his chest, but it was Valentine, walking into the house and across the playroom.
“Yes, it’s Valentine,” Dad agreed in a very similar tone of voice, “Welcome home kitty.”
We paused to stare at Valentine to reassure ourselves he was really home.
Then Dad said “Feed him.” I strode to the kitchen, and got out one bowl of his that hadn’t gone outside, and put a full scoop of the dry cat food he loves in the bowl. (We use an old coffee scoop, and usually only fill it ¾, but after a bit over 5 ½ days, I figured a full scoop was a good welcome home. I soon noticed he’d visibly lost weight in that time, so he’ll probably do well with a couple of days with extra food.
At Dad’s suggestion, I woke up Mom and told her the happy news. Then I stopped. Let me see, he needs food… and his scratch box, both of which were outside. I bustled around, and getting a cane and shoes, and called Dad over to guard the door. That took a few tries, because he was busy sharing the good news with Mom. {Smile}
I went out, and got the used scratch-box, which fortunately I had moved to the old garage, whose lights work, unlike the laundry. I’m glad I didn’t have to go in there; that would have been quite the challenge, since I really cannot walk in the dark. I grabbed the scratch-box, leaving the carrier and everything in the laundry until morning. I did grab a bowl I’d left on the porch on the way in. I kicked the scratch box inside as Dad stood between the door and Valentine, who was entirely too busy eating to worry about a door. I kicked the scratch box to the playroom, and dumped the dish in the sink, washing the ants and sole nibble out, but letting the soap wait.
Then I remembered I’d meant to put up signs to make sure Mom didn’t forget Val is supposed to be an inside-only cat. She’d approved the warning, “KEEP DOOR CLOSED TO KEEP CAT IN!!”
While I was working on that, Valentine limped into the living room and lay down on the floor beside me. He looked up at me expectantly, the dark line on his white fur obvious. With less struggle than usual, I knelt down to see what was up. His collar had gotten messed up. It went around his neck on the right, but then dipped back and went under his left front armpit. No wonder the poor little fellow was limping! That couldn’t be comfortable! I reached down to undo the buckle, glad it was simple squeeze to release like some of our luggage straps. The first thing I tried didn’t have the push buttons to release. I felt further. The second thing I found didn’t either. Then I reached the tag, then nothing more before it dipped under Valentine. I checked where it came out. Nothing until the first buckle-without-buttons. I checked all around a second time. No buckle with push buttons. Pulling it off over the leg… meant getting his elbow out of the way. Pulling it off over his head didn’t look good either. I went to get a scissors from the kitchen. I could figure this out eventually, but I’d rather get Valentine comfortable now.
Dad wanted to know what I was doing. I tried to show him only to have Valentine get up and walk out in the middle of the explanation. Fortunately, it was only to go to Dad’s room, jump up on Dad’s bed, and lie down on the fuzzy green blanket on the foot of his bed. This made it easier to show Dad.
“Just unbuckle it,” Dad said.
“I can’t. I can’t find the buckle. I think we should cut it.” I looked down at the kitchen shears… which are great for cutting meat and bone, but act more than a little dull around paper… and that collar was a heavy woven strap. I spotted my sewing kit, opened it up, and spotted one of the child’s sewing scissors in there. Not the sharpest, but hands down better than the kitchen shears, and they were certainly heavy enough for the strap. I set down the shears, grabbed the scissors, and went to Valentine. I bent over him, and slipped the scissors under his collar where there was only a single layer of strap to cut. It took a few snips to cut thru because it was thick and tough. When we got it off, we spotted the problem quickly: the pushbuttons were right next to the tag, so we dismissed that plastic as just part of the tag attachment.
Next, Dad called for water, so I got the water bowl from the kitchen, and dumped the water and ants out (Hilo is currently swarming with Little Yellow Fire Ants, and we’re no exception). I washed it, filled it with water, and took it to the playroom for Valentine. I thought he still wasn’t walking quite normally, but Dad said he was. In any case, he has been this morning, so maybe it was just walking out a cramp, or waiting for a bruise to subside. I hope so. {SMILE}
Then Dad and I got the signs posted, and he finished getting ready for bed while I let folks online know as best I could in my excitement. Sorry I didn’t make it clear he was inside last night. I guess I was just too excited that Valentine was finally home! {REALLY BIG GRIN, HUMONGOUS GRIN}
He’s been very quiet since he came back. He’s gotten up to eat a few times, and went to the living room twice - once to look out the front window at the yard and street, and once to see what I was doing while I was checking doors to make sure they were all completely closed and locked. The rest of the time, he’s been lying on that green fuzzy blanket on the foot of Dad’s bed. I think it must be the most comforting thing in the house, since he barely leaves it now. {BIG SMILE, REALLY BIG GRIN, HUMONGOUS GRIN}
P.S. With the low meows at the beginning, they raised about an octave as soon as Dad said he was coming. {wink, SMILE}
Anne Elizabeth Baldwin
Last night, he finally returned, coming inside, where he and we feel he really belongs, and really is safe. {Smile}
Yesterday, around dinner, which was around 9:30 or 10:00 because we’ve been having dinner unfashionably late this year, Dad heard meowing outside in the carport. He rushed to the door as fast as his crutch would let him, but couldn’t spot the cat. He came away discouraged, saying it was too low pitched for Valentine anyway. (Valentine has a surprisingly high-pitched voice, considering he’s a big cat. He’s two feet long from nose to rump, with another 14 inches of tail… and he’s a tenor by cat standards. {wink})
Then, while he was getting ready for bed, Dad heard the same low-pitched meowing at the carport door. “Wait a moment, kitty, and I’ll open the door for you!” he called. He popped out of the new bathroom and into the playroom, where I was waiting for him to come out and go to bed. “Open the door! I heard a cat!” he told me.
“This door?” I asked, gesturing towards the carport door as I started to walk towards it.
“Yes,” Dad said, hurrying as fast as his crutch lets him.
I opened the wooden door, then opened the screen door. I had work slowly at the latter because something was pushing on the screen door…
…Until there was enough space for Valentine to walk around it and right into the house.
“It’s Valentine! He’s home!” I cried, half choked up with tears of happiness. He was walking with a slight limp, and had a dark crease in the white fur of his chest, but it was Valentine, walking into the house and across the playroom.
“Yes, it’s Valentine,” Dad agreed in a very similar tone of voice, “Welcome home kitty.”
We paused to stare at Valentine to reassure ourselves he was really home.
Then Dad said “Feed him.” I strode to the kitchen, and got out one bowl of his that hadn’t gone outside, and put a full scoop of the dry cat food he loves in the bowl. (We use an old coffee scoop, and usually only fill it ¾, but after a bit over 5 ½ days, I figured a full scoop was a good welcome home. I soon noticed he’d visibly lost weight in that time, so he’ll probably do well with a couple of days with extra food.
At Dad’s suggestion, I woke up Mom and told her the happy news. Then I stopped. Let me see, he needs food… and his scratch box, both of which were outside. I bustled around, and getting a cane and shoes, and called Dad over to guard the door. That took a few tries, because he was busy sharing the good news with Mom. {Smile}
I went out, and got the used scratch-box, which fortunately I had moved to the old garage, whose lights work, unlike the laundry. I’m glad I didn’t have to go in there; that would have been quite the challenge, since I really cannot walk in the dark. I grabbed the scratch-box, leaving the carrier and everything in the laundry until morning. I did grab a bowl I’d left on the porch on the way in. I kicked the scratch box inside as Dad stood between the door and Valentine, who was entirely too busy eating to worry about a door. I kicked the scratch box to the playroom, and dumped the dish in the sink, washing the ants and sole nibble out, but letting the soap wait.
Then I remembered I’d meant to put up signs to make sure Mom didn’t forget Val is supposed to be an inside-only cat. She’d approved the warning, “KEEP DOOR CLOSED TO KEEP CAT IN!!”
While I was working on that, Valentine limped into the living room and lay down on the floor beside me. He looked up at me expectantly, the dark line on his white fur obvious. With less struggle than usual, I knelt down to see what was up. His collar had gotten messed up. It went around his neck on the right, but then dipped back and went under his left front armpit. No wonder the poor little fellow was limping! That couldn’t be comfortable! I reached down to undo the buckle, glad it was simple squeeze to release like some of our luggage straps. The first thing I tried didn’t have the push buttons to release. I felt further. The second thing I found didn’t either. Then I reached the tag, then nothing more before it dipped under Valentine. I checked where it came out. Nothing until the first buckle-without-buttons. I checked all around a second time. No buckle with push buttons. Pulling it off over the leg… meant getting his elbow out of the way. Pulling it off over his head didn’t look good either. I went to get a scissors from the kitchen. I could figure this out eventually, but I’d rather get Valentine comfortable now.
Dad wanted to know what I was doing. I tried to show him only to have Valentine get up and walk out in the middle of the explanation. Fortunately, it was only to go to Dad’s room, jump up on Dad’s bed, and lie down on the fuzzy green blanket on the foot of his bed. This made it easier to show Dad.
“Just unbuckle it,” Dad said.
“I can’t. I can’t find the buckle. I think we should cut it.” I looked down at the kitchen shears… which are great for cutting meat and bone, but act more than a little dull around paper… and that collar was a heavy woven strap. I spotted my sewing kit, opened it up, and spotted one of the child’s sewing scissors in there. Not the sharpest, but hands down better than the kitchen shears, and they were certainly heavy enough for the strap. I set down the shears, grabbed the scissors, and went to Valentine. I bent over him, and slipped the scissors under his collar where there was only a single layer of strap to cut. It took a few snips to cut thru because it was thick and tough. When we got it off, we spotted the problem quickly: the pushbuttons were right next to the tag, so we dismissed that plastic as just part of the tag attachment.
Next, Dad called for water, so I got the water bowl from the kitchen, and dumped the water and ants out (Hilo is currently swarming with Little Yellow Fire Ants, and we’re no exception). I washed it, filled it with water, and took it to the playroom for Valentine. I thought he still wasn’t walking quite normally, but Dad said he was. In any case, he has been this morning, so maybe it was just walking out a cramp, or waiting for a bruise to subside. I hope so. {SMILE}
Then Dad and I got the signs posted, and he finished getting ready for bed while I let folks online know as best I could in my excitement. Sorry I didn’t make it clear he was inside last night. I guess I was just too excited that Valentine was finally home! {REALLY BIG GRIN, HUMONGOUS GRIN}
He’s been very quiet since he came back. He’s gotten up to eat a few times, and went to the living room twice - once to look out the front window at the yard and street, and once to see what I was doing while I was checking doors to make sure they were all completely closed and locked. The rest of the time, he’s been lying on that green fuzzy blanket on the foot of Dad’s bed. I think it must be the most comforting thing in the house, since he barely leaves it now. {BIG SMILE, REALLY BIG GRIN, HUMONGOUS GRIN}
P.S. With the low meows at the beginning, they raised about an octave as soon as Dad said he was coming. {wink, SMILE}
Anne Elizabeth Baldwin