December 2005                                                     The Megaphone                                                                   Page 7

More Tales of Alfred

by Karen (Stine) Hollies

Many have read tales of Alfred, our beloved cat who died a few years ago. However, I have never written about Alfred and our trip here to Virginia Beach from the Cleveland area.
  

Like many cats, Alfred hated riding in a car. Anticipating the trauma that the move would cause him (and keeping in mind that this would trickle down to affecting us), I took him to the vet for something to calm him during the trip.
  

That good man frowned upon sedating animals but reluctantly agreed to giving him a little something that I could put in his food before we left. 
  

However, this was not to be. Alfie, as we usually called him, took one whiff of the food, tossed it about with a tentative paw and ate from only a part of the dish that he seemed to sense was "clean."
  

When the furniture was loaded, the final cleaning of the house completed, and our luggage was packed, we put Alfred in his traveling case and headed toward Pittsburgh. He immediately began screaming and
clawing at the case. It was extremely warm out -- July and in the 90's -- strange weather for that area, but it does occur. So, I removed the terrified cat from his container. I had a tiny leash that I had purchased and I put Alfred on it.
  

By this time Maggie, our youngest daughter who was moving with us, and I had traded places. She was sitting in the front and I was in the back trying to calm the cat. He was shedding like crazy and would relax only momentarily. 
  

What a relief to see our motel in Pittsburgh! Alfred relaxed and so did we; however, we knew that the next day would be grueling. We had no idea!
  

The next day the weather was even warmer. This was the summer of 1993, and it was a scorcher. Alfie began to panic the moment we put him in the car.
  

However, he was calmer if I held him and petted him and tried to soothe him.
  

The air was thick with cat fur and Maggie, who suffered from asthma and was allergic to cats began to wheeze and was using her inhaler to control the attack.
  

We were miserable but kept going when all of a sudden the air conditioner died. Shortly after that, the car slowed to a stop on the beltway around Washington, D.C. Jerry was able to get us off and he walked to an office and called for a tow truck.
  

By the time we entered the service station at Tyson's Corners, Maggie was still coughing but the wheezing had stopped, Alfred was panting, very still, and had a glazed look in his eyes. My feet and legs had swollen massively from the intense heat and my dark clothes were coated in cat hair.
  

"Lady, your cat looks sick," the man behind the desk stated.
  

"This cat's dying and so are we," I replied, as I spit out some fur, wiped the perspiration from my eyes, gave my wet hair a quick swipe and checked Maggie's breathing. 
  

The people at the station sprang into action and set up a spot for us, gave us some cold water to drink and cut a paper cup down to about an inch high for Alfred who lay nearly lifeless on the cool tiled floor. As we watched, his tongue slowly lapped a sip of water, then a second, and a third. Finally, he got up and began to inspect his surroundings.      
  

We were there for 6 hours as they repaired our car. The mechanics and personnel there were so delighted with Alfie's recovery that they were fussing over him like a surgeon whose patient had miraculously recovered. He was rewarding them with long purrs and little licks.
  

The remainder of the trip was fairly uneventful although Alfred did manage to get his leash tangled around the tire of a parked car at the motel in Virginia Beach and he made a momentary get away. However, he was always a little timid and came back when we called to him.
  

A couple of years later, Alfie was gone for several days; however, that is another story for another time.
  

Karen Stine Hollies '54
Virginia Beach, VA

to Page 8