My vet and friend Susan Garlinghouse had "hooked us up", after she'd rescued his momma and her litter. Not all of them made it. I picked him up on New Year's Day, a tiny 9 week old black ball of fluff, sick with something respiratory that took 2 months and multiple drugs to kick. Doing the math backwards reveals he was born around Halloween, how fitting for a black kitten. During his illness, he spent a lot of time inside a polarfleece vest with elastic waistband that I wore against the winter chill, up to 3 hours at a time! He would sleep and I could work, certainly the first "marsupial" kitty I'd ever encountered.
No name at first--I called him "Monkey Boy" for his jumping preference and propensity for the top of objects. Despite his illness, he was full of piss and vinegar. Things got more exciting when we visited for more drugs and I met his probable half brother, also rescued by Susan from the same scuba shop on a major street. I'm a sucker for brown tabbies, and Tino had tried living in another home whose existing cat did not want to share. Tino named himself shortly after coming home with us and he and the monkey boy were instant pals. After a couple of weeks, once Taran had some substance, they began having outdoor privileges. The horses didn't mind them and they adored the Great Outdoors.
Taran named himself after 5 weeks of driving me nuts. It means "gift from above" in at least one Native American tongue. And "earth angel" he was, coming at a run when called, delighting in chasing anything that moved, especially butterflies and grasshoppers., making us all laugh. Leaping from boulder to boulder that line our interior road's frontage. Mighty hunter Tino spent a lot of effort teaching him to hunt and be wary of risks Out There, but Taran was a blithe spirit who humored me when I'd be fearful about coyotes or the loose dog packs that would come through the acreage.
My little boy was unbelievably bold, he liked to go for walks, and cautious Tino would accompany us. Here he is visiting the longhorns that live on the southwest 40.
Here he's playing "Halloween Cat" for all he's worth, about to leap on Tino.
And recently he was following the driving lines as Kat drives mustang trainee Raven through the seasonal creek. I wish I had a decent photo of him with Twix, he was her cat, and she was his horse, a twist to interspecies relationships I'd never seen despite many years with horses.
A completely staged shot with a trick-opening cardboard box made by my friend Barrie Goshko.
Friends and clients can tell of my angst as concerned the care of these cats--all about the hours of daylight and how imperative it was that they would be indoors by dark. It's so ironic that my angel was snatched in broad daylight. He'd grown to about 8 pounds, and knew how to use his claws, he had to have been taken by surprise. It's a hard thing to let a cat be a cat, rather than a hothouse flower. Tino is bereft, clingy and cautious. Taran had many human as well as animal friends. I'll meet him with much joy at the Rainbow Bridge. I know there are folks who live in rural areas like this that just won't have cats because of the coyote risk, and probably horse people in areas of the country without them can't even conceive of not having barn cats. For me, my cats and horses are family and I give my heart unreservedly--and would I get another cat to keep Tino company? Probably not one who has not also been feral and has "mad skillz".
In his memory, I signed up as a volunteer for the "Littlest Hero" program, to take photos of seriously ill children for their loved ones.
