Once upon a time ...

                ...when I was young and foolish, I found myself living in Oregon.    I moved from my home in California to be close to my boyfriend-at-the-time who was going to school.   I knew no one at all in town except this young man who of course "dumped" me  shortly after I arrived.   Oh well, I suppose it was no great loss.   So here I was in Oregon with not a friend within hundreds of miles;  just me and my cat, Sabrina.   I had gotten a job at least so I had a place to live and income and decided to stick it out in the green state of Oregon and see how it might go.

Now if you've never stayed in Oregon for any length of time, you may not know that it rains here.   That doesn't sound too bad, but I mean it RAINS here..  A LOT!!!  OFTEN!!!   One of the T-shirts they sell here says "We don't tan in Oregon..  we RUST".   I moved here in September of 1970 and I literally did not see a patch of blue sky for three weeks.   It can be very depressing when you're used to California weather.   I began to feel very sorry for myself and after a period of self pity decided that to get myself out of the funk I was in I should meet some people.   Sounds good but how?   There was an advertisement on the radio about this place that was looking for volunteers.   Sounded like a good idea, so I gave Switchboard a call and volunteered my  services.

Keep in mind this was in the early 70's in a university town.   The town was filled with "alternative culture".   Switchboard was run by three people who shared a house downtown and they later moved into actual office space.    They gathered information from around the area on places that hitchhikers might stay for the night, or perhaps get a meal.  They had a bulletin board for people willing to give rides to other areas and those wanting rides.   They needed volunteers to answer phones on a 24 hour basis.    It was easy work and I met all kinds of very interesting people with many colorful stories.    One of the people that also volunteered was a man we called Captain Jack.   Now, Captain Jack was a rather laid-back person who could tell tales all night if you let him.

Sabrina and I lived alone in a one bedroom apartment.   She had been with me since she was 5 weeks old and I had always lived in apartments that did not allow pets so of course she had always been hidden inside.   Poor thing had never even seen the outside when we moved to Oregon.   This apartment also did not allow pets and so, once again, she was delegated to hiding inside. She didn't seem to mind much.   

For some strange reason I decided that she deserved the joys of motherhood, but since her social life was rather restricted it was necessary to arrange a "date" for her.    One of the people at Switchboard had a rather nice looking male cat and so I asked Herb if I could take his cat home for the weekend to meet my Sibby.    He gave his blessings and when I left Switchboard that Friday evening after my shift, I picked the cat up off the porch and brought him home.   Sibby didn't take to him immediately but by the end of the weekend they had shared passions (with scars to prove it).    Since I was working at Switchboard on Monday evening I figured I would just take the cat back to Herb then.  When I got home from my job and was ready to go to Switchboard for my shift, I went to get Herbs cat but he was no where around.   A thorough search of my small apartment revealed an open window going out to my second story balcony.   The cat was long gone!   I went to Herb with a heavy heart and confessed that I had lost his cat.   "What are you talking about?" he said.  "You never took him. He's been here all weekend!"   I have no idea who's cat I stole and lost but  he was good at what he did for indeed my Sibby began to put on weight and get a large belly.

Time passed and one Friday evening I dropped by the Switchboard office on my way home from work just to see who was on duty and chat a moment.   Captain Jack was manning the phones this night and we chatted for a bit while listening to the radio.   After 20 minutes or so I announced that my cat was going to have her kittens that evening and I needed to get home, and so off I went.   ( I have no idea how I knew it was THE night but I just had this undeniable knowledge.)

Please understand; I had never been present at a birth of anything before, and I had arranged this whole thing and felt responsible for this event in no small way.   Sabrina was my support system for months  and I was so afraid that she might not know what to do.   If I went to bed as I usually did with my bedroom door closed and her at the foot of my bed, my fear was she would crawl either under the bed to have them or in the closet and I would be unaware of the event.   I had a lovely box with a nice fluffy towel all set up in the front hall closet and if I put her in that and closed my bedroom door to sleep, I'd miss out entirely too.   UNLESS..  I slept on the couch where I might hear her.   So that was the plan.

About 2 am Sabrina did indeed jump up on my chest as I lay asleep on the couch and began to meow most painfully.   Labor, it seems, had started.    I, being a rational adult, assured her that everything would be just fine; carried her gently to the prepared box and sat next to her on the floor, petting her lovingly and saying soothing things.   She didn't seem very soothed.   Her meows began to turn into yowls and she was very agitated.   She didn't WANT that box.   She didn't really know what she wanted.    I began to panic.   "What if I've domesticated her to the point that she doesn't know how to have kittens?   She's never even been outside and the only cat I'm sure she remembers is the "date" I had arranged.   I don't know how to deliver kittens!!!"   With panic increasing in me I frantically thought of who in the world I might call at 2:30 am!   CAPTAIN JACK!!  He's up!

I sit on the floor next to my cat, who is crying quite loudly at this point with Captain Jack on the other end of the phone.   "JACK!!   I don't know what to do!!   My cat IS having her kittens tonight and she's yelling.  What if she doesn't know how to do this?   I've never had kittens! "   He can hear the sheer terror rising in my voice, so to calm me down tells me to hang on, he'll call a veterinarian on the other line and see what the proper procedure is.   A few minutes later he returns to the phone and asks if I have any liquor in the house?    "Liquor??  I'm 20 years old!!  I can't drink!!   NO!"   He says that the vet on the other line recommends that if I can find some liquor to try to get the cat to drink a tablespoon or so full.   (I found out later he NEVER had a veterinarian on the phone and that that is NOT a good thing to do to any animal!)   Believing him at this hour, I tell him to hang on the line and I throw my bathrobe on and rush outside to bang on the door of the poor couple who lived in the next apartment.

My neighbor opens the door at 2:45 am, his eyes barely open and says "yea?"

I take a deep breath and begin "I'm sorry to wake you but my cat's having kittens I know I'm not suppose to have a cat but I do and she's having kittens and she doesn't seem to be doing very well at it and there's this vet that says if I can get her to drink just a tablespoon of alcohol that it might calm her down enough but I don't have any 'cause I'm only 20 and I was wondering if you had any liquor I could borrow for my cat just a tablespoon full and I'll bring it back in the morning."

He looked at me for a moment, sighed, and wandered back inside his apartment, reappearing a moment later with a full quart of vodka.  "Is this enough?" he asks as he hands me the bottle.

"Oh YES!   It's for my cat.   I only need a tablespoon full, honest.  I'll bring it back in the morning.  Thank you." and I grabbed the bottle of vodka and rushed back to my apartment.   Cooing sweet soothing words to Sibby who is howling at this point, I carefully pour some vodka in a spoon and sit on the floor trying to convince Sibby that this is good for her.   She won't have anything to do with it, which of course increases my panic.    I pick up the phone that is still laying on the floor and practically scream to Jack...  "SHE WON'T TAKE ANY!!  NOW what do I do!?"

He calmly tells me to put her in a box.

"SHE'S IN A BOX!!"

and put a towel in the box.

"THERE IS A TOWEL IN THE BOX"

and carry the box, towel and cat down to my car and drive to the Switchboard office where we can go through this whole adventure together.

Okay!!   I carry my bundle to my car and drive 80 miles an hour at 3 am in the morning up the main street towards downtown to the Switchboard office.   (Thank GOODNESS a police  officer didn't stop me..  I can't imagine what he might have done to me with this tale!)   I carefully carry the box with a howling cat up the stairs to the office and set it in the closet.   Sitting next to her on the floor for a bit I try to soothe her again but she's very unhappy by this point.    Captain Jack decides that perhaps we need more help so he calls up the local radio station and asks the DJ on duty if he might announce on air that Switchboard is in need of a midwife for a cat that is having kittens in their closet.   This DJ decides that it's rather slow for an early Saturday morning so why not and gives the announcement over the airways.   He even gave progress reports throughout the morning on the births and after his shift was over, stopped by to see how everything was.

Across the street from the Switchboard office, a light is on.    Thom is writing a letter at this hour and always has his radio on.    "Hmmm..",  he says to himself.  "I've always wondered about Switchboard but never went over there.    I'm not doing anything right now, I think I'll wander over there and see what's up."   So he put down his pen and wandered across the street and up the stairs to hold my hand while my cat had four very lovely and healthy kittens in the closet of the Switchboard office.    All he really needed to do was keep me away from her and Sibby did just fine!

Thom and I were married within a year.