About a month ago, I walked into the Little Barn on a very blustery winter day.  The normal smells, sounds and sights greeted me, but then I looked to my right and saw Steve. He was curled up and very still.  What was strangest, though, was where he was curled up. I had placed five large bags of compressed pine shavings together against one wall of the work room, forming a bit of a table. On top of that, I had set a large box fan, on its side and still in the box.  Steve was laying on top of that. He was very visible, in a place he’d never been before, at a time of day when he was normally finding me for breakfast.  My heart sank to my knees. 

I slowly approached him, and the only part of him that moved were his eyes, following my hands as I reached out to him. I stroked his head and shoulders ~ no reaction.  Not good. He was breathing, though, and he knew I was there, so I found a blanket that was warm and gently wrapped it around him to block the draft I knew was blowing in from the large barn door only six feet away from him. 

I went through my morning routine, which led me back to the Little Barn about three hours after I had given everyone breakfast.  Steve was still curled on the box, but he had shifted position. I could see that his left back leg and flank were drawn into his body, but I couldn’t see any blood or bones. When I reached out to try to touch his leg, though, he hissed at me. Steve has never hissed at me. Thankfully, I had some pain medicine that I mixed with a bit of tuna and water and took it out to him.  I relaxed a little when he started eating the mixture like it was the best treat imaginable.

He slept on top of the box most of the day, but in the late afternoon, he made his way down, holding his injured leg high and moving very slowly. He ate, drank some water, used the litter box, and to my total surprise, made his way back up to his blanket on the box. I relaxed a little more. 

Over the next week or so, he voluntarily stayed in the Little Barn, sleeping mostly on his box blanket. I kept up the pain meds and made sure he had tuna and water if I didn’t think he’d made it down to the cat food bowls. For the first few days, I puzzled over what was wrong and how it happened, then I gave up trying to figure it out. There were a dozen possibilities of what could have happened, and he was slowly recovering.  The most important thing, I realized one day, was that despite what had clearly been a very painful injury, he made it home and made sure he was in a place where I would see him.  I like to think that he trusted me to help him, but saying so would be putting words in his mouth. 

So back to my Valentine’s Day gift. Today is a beautiful day on the farm. The sun is out, the sky is blue, there’s no wind to speak of, and the temperature is in the mid-40’s. That, in itself, is a gift. Steve, though, added a layer that made my heart sing. I found him this afternoon, stalking a little creature in the pasture as he has done all the time he’s been here. I called to him, and my panther cat ignored what he was watching and walked right to me, flopping down in the sun for belly rubs when he reached my feet.  Ah, my Steve ~ you’re better than any bunch of roses could ever be!  

Happy Valentine’s Day, Everyone!