D E Larsen DVM
“Slow down a minute, Ralph,” Jan said as she watched the old cat on the edge of Pleasant Valley Bridge in Sweet Home.
“Turn here,” Jan said, pointing at the bridge.
Ralph turned and headed across.
“Stop. Stop right here. That cat needs some help.”
Jan almost jumped out of the car before it came to a full stop, crouching and calling softly to the cat. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she said as she stretched out her hand and made a couple of short, shuffled steps toward the dusty old tabby.
The cat hesitated for a moment as if trying to decide if he should run or not. But there was something inviting in this lady’s voice. He eased forward and sniffed at her fingertips, and she patted him on the top of his head.
A couple of cars had stopped behind theirs, and Ralph was getting a little impatient.
“Hurry it up, Jan,” he said. “We are holding up traffic.”
A woman a couple of cars back started to get out of hers, but Jan motioned for her to stay put. The old tabby moved up to Jan’s knees and pushed against her.
Jan could feel a stifled purr. She took a deep breath, leaned over and scooped the old guy up. Together, they slid into the car and she pulled the door shut. The cat leaned into her and purred as she stroked his back and sides.
Ralph swallowed and put the car in gear.
“I hope this isn’t a mistake,” he said.
“This is a nice cat,” Jan said. “And he has a collar and a tag.”
“We don’t have time to deal with a stray cat today.”
“We need to find the vet’s office in town.”
Ralph pulled over as soon as they were across the bridge. The woman who wanted to help pulled up behind them and approached Jan’s window. The cat was now wholly under Jan’s spell as she made long, slow strokes from the top of his head to his tail.
Jan rolled her window down.
“Where can we find a vet in town?” she asked.
“There is a clinic in the Safeway shopping center in the middle of town,” the woman replied. “Is the kitty OK?”
“I think he is OK – maybe lost, but OK,” Jan said. “He looks a little rough, like he has been traveling a bit. He has a tag. We will drop him at the vet’s office. We are headed for Bend and don’t have a lot of time.”
* * * * *
Jan was breathless as she came through the clinic door and perched the cat on the counter in front of Judy.
“We found this cat on the bridge coming into town,” Jan said. “It looks like he needs some help, and we are on our way to Bend.”
“It looks like he has a tag on that collar,” Judy said. “Is he nice?”
“He is the sweetest old thing,” Jan said. “I think he must be lost.”
Judy looked at the tag.
“It says ‘Tramp,’” she read. “I guess that fits. Let me check with the doctor.”
I came out and looked at the cat. He was thin but otherwise OK, and had a collar and tag. The latter had the animal’s name, plus his owner’s name and a local phone number. I agreed to keep him.
“Thanks a lot, Doc,” Ralph said. “We have to hurry now. We have a meeting in Bend that we will be late for if we don’t get on the road.”
These foundlings were always a problem. Occasionally, the finder would offer to be responsible for the bill if we couldn’t locate the owner. But most of the time, that expense, whatever it happened to be, fell on the clinic. At least Tramp came with identification.
Judy was given the task of calling the owner.
“Yes, this is Robert Wilson,” the man said to Judy. “What can I do for you?”
“This is Judy from Sweet Home Veterinary Clinic,” Judy said. “We had a couple find an old cat on Pleasant Valley Bridge this morning. The cat has a tag on its collar with your name and number on the tag.”
“I don’t know what to tell you about that,” he said. “We don’t own a cat.”
That was great news. We were stuck with finding someone to adopt this animal, not an unusual event for such situations.
About 30 minutes later, we were still discussing how we would find someone to take the cat when the phone rang. It was Mr. Wilson.
“What does that cat look like?” he asked.
“It is a brownish tabby cat, neutered male, friendly,” Judy replied. “He looks a little thin and has sort of a rough hair coat, but otherwise, he is in good shape.”
“We had a cat about five years ago,” Mr. Wilson said. “We had to move to San Francisco for a couple of years. We lost him on the trip down, somewhere in Northern California. His name was Tramp, but I don’t remember a collar. You don’t think that could be him, do you?”
“How else do you suppose this cat had Tramp’s collar?” Judy asked.
“We will come right down and get a look at him.”
It wasn’t long before a car pulled up in front of the clinic. Robert and his wife came through the door first, but Susie, their teenage daughter, was right on their heels.
One look at Tramp became a happy reunion. The daughter opened the cage, and the cat was instantly on her shoulder and purring, rubbing his face on her neck and face. She was in tears.
“Susie has suffered for years,” Mr. Wilson said. “We had stopped at a rest stop south of Crescent City, and Tramp got out of the car. The next thing we knew, he was scared by another car and ran into the woods. We looked for him for an hour, but we couldn’t stay there. We had to go on. Susie cried for days.”
“Do you think he has been traveling all these years?” Judy asked. “That is remarkable.”
“It is pretty hard to believe; you saw the immediate recognition by both of them. Pretty remarkable, it will be a happy evening in our house. Do I owe you guys anything?”
“No, we are just happy we didn’t have to find a family to adopt him,” I said.
The stories Tramp could tell. This was something right out of a Disney movie.
– David Larsen is a retired veterinarian who practiced 40 years in Sweet Home. More of his stories are available on his blog at docsmemoirs.com.