When Steve and Dave arrived last July, they were both in one cat carrier. The person who brought them to us from Detroit carried them to the two large dog crates I had bungee-corded together to form their safe space while they acclimated to the farm.  When we tried to get them into the crates, Dave immediately tumbled out and ran to the farthest corner he could fine. Steve hung onto the carrier for dear life, not even letting go when we tipped it upside down. It took a large measure of persuasion for him to let go and tumble to the back of the crates with Dave.

The behavior assessment that the staff at the Detroit shelter had written on their transfer papers said “fearful but not aggressive,” and Steve definitely lived up to that description. He was afraid of everything ~ me, the blanket over the crate, his food dish…and whenever John walked into the room with the crates, all we could see of Steve were these huge yellow eyes staring out from whatever he had been able to get under or behind. But we never saw his claws, and he never tried to bite. 

Fast forward to this morning. Dawn was lighting the skies through broken clouds when I went outside to give Dave and Steve their breakfast. I called to them, as I do, and suddenly, there was a dark gray streak racing right to me from over the hill by the big barn. Steve, of course, our panther-in-training!  Over the grass he ran until he braked right at my feet and flopped over on his back, stretching his front paws over his head, just waiting for me to take the hint and rub his belly. This has become our morning greeting ~ belly rubs. 

Both cats have come a long way in their journey to trusting us, but Steve has definitely come the farthest.  He still does not like to be picked up, but he runs to me when I call for him, even dropping whatever he’s just caught in order to come faster. He’s talking more these days, little “Mirps” that sound like he’s swallowed the second part of the “Meow.” And every so often, I can hear the quietest of purrs as he rubs his head on my leg. 

There is still much about Steve that lives in the “fearful but not aggressive” category. He still runs from John most of the time, although sometimes, he will go away a safe distance and sit down to watch. He is terrified of the power saw we’ve been using in the little barn, and any sudden movements of anything ~ human, wooden, grass ~ makes him jump and look around with wide eyes. But this morning, less than a week from opening Sundance, Steve gave me a gentle reminder of why I’m devoting the next chapter of my life to running a farm animal sanctuary. Purrs, belly rubs, trust. Thanks, Steve.