The Adventures of Paco the Service Cat

    Paco's first day was riddled with anxiety and excitement on all sides.  Will he actually make a good service cat?  Are there unforeseen difficulties that will manifest now that he is in a strange place?  Such are my thoughts as I release Paco into our world.  Paco is at first reticent, but not to the point of outright withdraw.  When brought into new and unfamiliar situation, most cats will hide somewhere and observe comings and goings, appearing only after they feel comfortable doing so.  Though he refuses to be held for the moment, Paco does not allow his anxiety to prevent him a good sniff and look around. 

     He begins by launching himself toward our two resident felines--Remy and Trixie.  The hisses abound, but Paco, clearly taken aback, remains undaunted.  He keenly keeps his distance from Remy who is a full grown long-haired grey.  But little Trixie, our black short hair, has become the object of his playful desires.  He charges at her over and over, offering himself in a crotched positon--like a puppy inviting another puppy to play.  Trixie follows Remy's lead and continues to assert her dislike of the newcomer.  Paco leaps over her, spins around, lifts his front paws in the air and flies toward her.  Trixie rolls over and grabs at him, kicking and swatting.  In a few days, these two will be fast friends.

    For as long as I could remember, the age of two or so, I have been fascinated by animals of all kinds.  Cats and birds in particular have always held a special place in my heart.  In the fifth grade, we read about seeing eye dogs, and having an eye condition myself, I was amazed and intrigued by the work of these selfless animals.  But from that day, a part of me always wondered why cats could not help people too. 

     Cats have been in my life without a break since the day I was born.  Here are only a handful out of the dozens I have lived with:  There was Linus, the long haired orange tabby who was never fixed and went on to sire a group of wonderful kittens.  There was Butterscotch, the beautiful tortoise shell who became Linus's mate.  There was Apollo, a long haired himalayan that gave my father many years of joy and companionship.  There was Froggy, the grey tabby who graced me with his presence for over 15 years and proved to me every day of his life with his patience, love, and understand that a cat could definitely be a service animal.  Now there is Pable Picasso or Paco, who in many ways reminds me of Froggy.  He has that spark in his eye, that attaction to people that rivals the love of the friendliness dog.  He is like a little teddy bear that wants to cuddle up close, purring and gently pawing all the while.  He gives love freely to anyone, and is especially willing to give to those who are suffering.  And, he is adores small childen.

   We stumbled upon Paco entirely by accident.  I had been searching animal shelters for the right kind of cat, coming close but not on the mark with the necessary personality.  A service cat must be fearless and ready to face baffling and even unsettling situations without losing control.  A service cat must give love freely and willing to anyone who is willing to receive him or her.  Most of all, a service cat must have that spark, that inner life, that feeling that he or she was meant to do something more.   On the way home from a family outing, we happened to drive by a pet store, and with my son and wife grumbling I decided to give the place a chance.

     My four year old son (James) and I looked around the store finding all manner of animals.  A dozen dogs, a bunch of guinea pigs, some rabbits, loads of mice and birds, and only one cat--a tiny tabby that was entirely indifferent to us.  We were about to leave, when James stumbled upon another cage tucked away in a corner.  This one houses three different cats.  The largest of them, a six month old mackerel grey tabby greeted us with head butts to the bars and soft rolling trills.  I was immediately drawn to him, and we asked the clerk to allow us to visit with him.  He came from the cage with a boisterous purr and his small paws kneading the air in front of him.  It was clear that he wanted to be held, and that he wanted to meet both me and my son.  I held him in my arms and he pushed his head into my chest.  I held him close to James, and he eagerly bumped his head against Jame's small hands.  It only took a few minutes to realize that this cat was the one.

   And so Paco came home with us.  He did not require a box.  He sat willingly in my son's lap the entire ride home.  My wife named him Paco, after an old taco place that we had discovered that day was no longer in existence.  We stretched it out to Pablo Picasso--my favorite painter.  Picasso was a man who created all his life, and never let himself stand still.  Even debilitating illness would not stop him from being the man he was meant to be.  These type of people are the ones I most admire and wish to immulate in my own life.  If there were ever a cat version of Picasso, it would be our little Paco.  He is ready to meet the challenges ahead, which will be many and often.  He desires only to give of himself no matter where he finds himself or who he finds himself with.  He deserves to have a purpose in his life, and oh what a purpose it will be!