D. E. Larsen, DVM
It was an early summer day in 1978 when a couple passing through town came through the clinic door. They had found a stray cat crossing Pleasant Valley Bridge, and it looked like it needed help. Typically for such found animals, they were good samaritans by bringing the cat to the clinic, they had no intention of paying for any services.
I looked at the cat, thin but okay otherwise and it had a collar and a tag. Tag gave the cat’s name, Tramp. It also had an owner’s name and local phone number. I agreed to keep the cat, and the virtuous people were gone as quick as they came.
Judy was given the task of calling the owner on the tag. The guy on the other end of the phone was cordial but flatly stated that he didn’t own a cat. Now we were stuck with finding someone to adopt this cat, not an unusual event for such foundlings.
About 30 minutes later the phone rang. It was Mr. Wilson, the guy Judy had called about the cat.
“What does that cat look like?” He asked.
“It is an orange tabby cat, neutered male, very friendly. He looks a little thin and sort of a rough hair coat, but otherwise, he is in good shape.” Judy replied.
“We had a cat about 5 years ago. We moved to San Francisco, and 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 only took a few minutes for the Wilsons to make the trip to town from Pleasant Valley. He and his wife came through the door first, but they were soon followed by their teenage daughter. One look at Tramp, and it became a happy reunion. The daughter opened the cage and Tramp was instantly on her shoulder and purring, rubbing his face on her neck and face. She was in tears. They all left happy, and we didn’t have to find a home for Tramp.
The stories Tramp could tell. This was something right out of a Disney movie.