#would also recommend that you borrow some strangers phone to call them in case they try to save your number

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Ch. 3

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Notes: 15k+ in and I still ain’t done. I’m like an annoying cockroach that lives under your fridge.

Word Count: 5k

Song: Someone to Stay - Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Warnings: starts out cute, ends up kind of dark. Mentions of kidnapping, trauma, usual CM warnings. 

_____________________

Clearing out your apartment was easier than you thought it would be; turns out, ever since you got back from Syria, you didn’t have much in terms of belongings. Being a soldier, you learned to pack light. You supposed you never made it out of that mindset. 

Saying goodbye to your parents was surprisingly easy. Of course, your dad couldn’t really argue, him being six feet under and all. You hoped he approved, wherever he was. Like your mom said — he’d want you to move on. 

Your mom managed to keep it together until the two of you were standing in the driveway, saying your ‘final’ goodbye. You caught her wiping away a few tears.

“Come on, mom, don’t cry,” you begged, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m just proud of you, honey,” she assured. She pulled away, setting her hands on your cheeks. “I’m a little sad, but mostly, I’m proud. I know this wasn’t an easy decision for you.”

“I’ll text everyday, and I’ll call you at least once a week,” you said. “I’ll be back for the holidays, too. And hey, maybe I’ll bring Spencer.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

You smiled and hugged your mom one last time. You got into your jeep, waved goodbye, and pulled out of the driveway. Only then did you let a few tears of your own fall.

They weren’t out of sadness, per se; you could feel the chapter ending, was all. You didn’t like endings. You didn’t like to say goodbye. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Spence,” you greeted warmly. You were standing at a gas station somewhere in Western Missouri — about halfway to Virginia.

“What are you doing up so early?” He asked. You could hear the sleep in his voice.

“Oh, shit, did I wake you up?” you said, feeling guilty. “I’ll call you back in a few hours.” 

“No, it’s okay,” he promised. “I like talking to you.”

You smiled again. “Do you like seeing me?” 

“Of course I do.”

“Can I take you out to breakfast Friday morning?” 

“How can you do that if you’re in Colorado?”

Your smile widened. “I never said I was in Colorado.”

“...You’re in Virginia?” He asked, confused.

“I’m on my way,” you answered. “I’m in Missouri now, so I should be there in two days.”

“Two days..?” He thought aloud. A moment of silence passed. “Oh my god, Y/N, are you driving?!”

“Of course I am,” you replied. “What else did you expect?”

“That’s over 1,500 miles!” He shouted. “Something could happen!”

You leaned against the jeep. “Like what?” “Anything! Your car could break down, your reservations could fall through, you could get kidnapped…”

“Spencer,” you said, cutting him off. “I lived in a warzone for 3 years. I can handle a 25-hour road trip.”

“Where are you? What’s your specific location in Missouri?” Spencer asked. You could hear shuffling.

“Does it matter?” “It does matter, because I’m gonna catch a flight,” he said. 

“No you are not!” You laughed. “I am fine, Spencer. I’m not letting you waste a couple grand on a last minute flight to Boondocks, Missouri.” He sighed. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“I have hotel reservations in Nashville,” you chuckled. “I should be there no later than 7 tonight.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then I’ll call you,” you answered simply. “And if I don’t respond, I just gave your team a case. You’re welcome in advance.”

“This isn’t funny, Y/N!”

You covered your mouth to stifle your laughter. “You know, it’s a good thing we weren’t dating while I was in Syria,” you said, still giggling. “You wouldn’t have survived the first night, let alone 3 years.”

Silence.

“Spence, are you there?” you asked.

“You said we’re dating.” 

Your heart rate picked up. “Aren’t we?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, you introduced me to your mom. Fuck-buddies don’t do that.” 

“I guess they don’t,” he ceded. You could practically see his smile. “Hey, why are you coming to Virginia anyways?”

“I can’t drive over 1,500 miles to see you?” you joked.

“You can, but you never have.”

That was a can of worms you didn’t feel like opening over the phone. 

“I’ll tell you when I get there,” you said. “I’ll call you at 7, let you know what’s going on.”

“Stay safe, okay Y/N?” 

You smiled. “Always.”

After filling up the jeep, you sat down in the driver’s seat with a sigh. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes for a moment. You wondered how Spencer would have reacted had you told him you had slept in your car the night before. 

You opened your eyes after awhile to see your dog tags hanging on the rearview mirror. You leaned forward, took them off, and  put them around your neck. You were closing a chapter in your life, so it seemed appropriate to remember the old ones. 

_____________________

You found your new apartment complex in no time, as it was only a few minutes from campus. You considered staying in the dorms, but ultimately decided against it for multiple reasons. It wasn’t much cheaper to live on campus, you being an out of state student, so financially, there was no benefit. Also, you’d been used to living on your own since the Army; you didn’t feel like living with a stranger in their early twenties at the oldest, 18 at the youngest. 

You parked in front so your stuff would be easier to move in. What you didn’t expect was seeing Spencer sitting on the front steps. 

“What are you doing here?!” you asked, jogging up to greet him. Without hesitation, you pulled him into a hug.

“I asked Garcia to do some digging,” he admitted. “You could have told me you were moving.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you grinned, pulling away. You brushed some hair out of his face.

“Believe me, I am surprised,” Spencer promised. Then, he grinned, grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you into a kiss. 

“You know, we can do this as much as we want now,” you said smugly after pulling away. 

“I guess so,” he smiled. He ran his thumb over your mouth, biting his bottom lip as he did so. 

“If you help me move in, I’ll let you stay the night,” you bribed, resting your arms on his shoulders. “We can order a pizza, watch a movie… do a little more than kissing.”

“You had me at ‘stay the night.’”

Just like moving out didn’t take much time, neither did moving in. Truthfully, you took the most time making your bed. The rest of your items were unpacked in less than an hour.

“Is this all of your stuff?” Spencer asked, looking around the bare room. 

You nodded. “Besides the stuff my mom has at home. I’m not very materialistic.” 

“Have you always been this way?” He inquired curiously.

“Ever since Syria,” you admitted. “Once you see how people in poverty live, a 70” flat screen doesn’t seem all that important, I guess.” 

Spencer took a seat on the couch. “You served for 3 years, right?”

“I thought you had an eidetic memory,” you teased, taking a seat beside him.

“I’m trying to be more conversational.”

“Just be yourself,” you encouraged. “I like you for you.”

He smiled, looking down.

“I was deployed for 3 years,” you said, despite him knowing the answer. “Served for a total of 5. I saw a lot of things. But no matter how bad it got, I knew the people in the situation had it so much worse. It’s like your work at the BAU — you see the worst of humanity, but you don’t suffer from it. It’s just your job to help the people that do.”

“Speaking of the BAU…” Spencer segued. “Have you called Hotch?”

“I… don’t know what to say,” you admitted. 

��I can talk to him for you, if you want,” Spencer offered.

“I’m a big girl: I can do it myself,” you replied. “Thank you, though.”

“Of course,” Spencer said, taking your hand.

Turns out, Spencer didn’t have to tell Hotch anything for him to figure out you were in Virginia. You got voicemail one afternoon, right after a different job interview. Hotch said he ‘got a hold of’ a letter of recommendation your former Sergeant Major wrote for you. He proceeded to say that, if you were still interested, he’d like to set up an interview. 

You called Spencer right away, and the minute you told him, he picked you up and spun you around with joy.

Who knew Virginia could be so great. 

_____________________

The hours before your interview was probably the most nerve-wracking moment of your life. You were terrified of failing, even more so than when you joined the Army. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you fluked this. 

“I’m gonna vomit,” you told Spencer, who was sitting at his desk in the BAU bullpen. Meanwhile, you were relentlessly pacing. “Or faint. Or both.” 

“You’re gonna do fine, Y/N,” Spencer assured. “I’ve never seen Hotch offer an interview to someone. As far as he’s concerned, you’re qualified.”

“Hey beautiful,” someone behind you remarked. You turned around to see Derek Morgan.

“Hey, Derek,” you smiled with some relief. 

“What brings you to Quantico?” He asked, taking a sip from his mug.

“An interview,” you answered simply. Had you continued, you would have rambled. It’s a nervous tick of yours.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “An interview for the BAU?”

You nodded. 

“Good luck, doll,” he said, patting your shoulder. “You’ll do great.” 

Suddenly, you felt Spencer take your hand. 

“Seriously, Y/N, you’ll nail it,” he promised. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Hotchner called from the balcony. 

You let go of Spencer’s hand, looking up. “Yes sir?”

“Ready when you are,” he said, then walked back into his office. 

You smoothed down your blouse, sucking in a breath. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it,” Spencer said with a smile. 

“Thanks,” you replied, taking a few steps towards the stairs. “Oh, and Spencer?”

He looked up.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” you said with a wink.

“She’s not wrong,” you heard Derek say before you made your way up the stairs. 

“Why do you think you’d be an asset to this team?” Hotchner asked.

You sat across from his desk, while Erin Strauss, the section chief, stood to the side. 

“Well, all of my former commanders speak very highly of me,” you started. “I was a combat medic in an active warzone for 3 years. I saved more lives than I can count, both civilian and fellow soldiers.” 

“While we appreciate your service,” Erin started, “all BAU agents hold a specific set of skills. What are your qualifications in terms of education?”

“I’m pursuing a degree in Psychology at the University of Virginia,” you informed. 

“What year are you in?”

“...I’ll be a freshman in a few months.”

Strauss shot Hotchner a look.

You pursed your lips, then let out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle. 

“Is something funny, Miss Y/L/N?” Stauss asked.

“No ma’am,” you assured. “It’s just… I’m twenty-five. I enlisted the second I turned eighteen, and I served my country for 5 years. Uncle Sam is paying for my degree, which I couldn’t pursue earlier, because like I said, I was serving my country.”

“And like I said, your service is appreciated,” Strauss countered. “But -”

“I get it,” you cut her off, feeling suddenly confident. “There are probably better candidates out there, at least on paper. You can hire someone that’s worked in the FBI for years, who’s taken the proper classes to become a profiler. I get it — they’re less of a risk. But I’m good in a crisis. I’ve worked in emergency medicine for 7 years, and for 3 of those years, I was being shot at while practicing. I could ace any physical or psychological evaluation you throw my way. And, even though it doesn’t mean much, I’ve been profiling since before I could spell my own name. Maybe there are better candidates out there, I honestly don’t know. But what I do know is that I could be pretty damn amazing, if you give me the chance. ...Ma’am.”

_____________________

Spencer invited you over for the night, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the interview. 

“I mouthed off to her,” you said, running your hands through your hair. “God, I’m an idiot. I’m never getting the job.”

“Y/N, come lay down,” Spencer said. His back was against the backboard, the book he was reading now in his lap. 

“I can’t, I’m pacing,” you mumbled, continuing to walk around his bedroom. 

Spencer didn’t say anything; he put his book on the nightstand, pulled the covers back, walked over to you, and set you down on the bed. He sat behind you and began rubbing your shoulders. 

“You’re smart, you’re strong, good under pressure, and more than qualified,” he said. “You’ll get a call back. Just give it some time.” 

You leaned into his touch, letting yourself relax for the first time all day. “You’re right. I’m sorry I’ve been so crazy. I just… really want this. I’m terrified that I ruined things for myself.”

“I’m sure you did better than you think,” Spencer said softly. “Strauss puts up a strong front, but she’s not as bad as she seems. All she wants is someone who can do the job well and stay out of trouble.”

You leaned your back against his chest. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his lips into your shoulder. You set your hands over his. 

You weren’t sure when the two of you fell asleep; all you knew is that you fell asleep on top of Spencer’s chest with your face buried in his neck. Normally, upon waking up, you would savor the moment. But this morning, your ringing phone woke you up. 

Carefully moving as to not wake Spencer, you untangled yourself from bed and picked up your phone on the 3rd ring. 

“Hello?” you asked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Y/N?” The voice asked. “It’s Aaron Hotchner.”

Any fatigue in your body left at that exact moment.

“Yes, Sir. Good morning,” you greeted.

“I just heard back from Erin Strauss. Are you able to start Monday?”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely.” 

“That’s good to hear. I’ll see you 8AM sharp come Monday.”

“Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir,” you said, before wishing him goodbye. 

You hung up the phone, squealed, and began to jump around. You were so absorbed in your own happiness that you didn’t hear Spencer stir awake. 

“Good news?” He asked sleepily. 

Beaming, you leaned down and kissed him. “Great news.” 

_____________________

Your day started with a lot of formalities — you sat in an office with the head of HR,  learning about uniforms, insurance, and retirement plans. Your uniform was easy compared to virtually everyone else in the BAU; you had to wear a garment stating your job as a paramedic at all times. This came in two easy forms: a t-shirt or a bomber jacket, both provided by the Bureau. Apparently, you’re supposed to stick out in a crowd. You wondered if it was a rule for all medical personnel in the FBI, or if Strauss had something to do with it. 

The HR manager was about to get into 401ks when the two of you were interrupted.

“Oh good, you’re still here,” a high, chipper voice said from the doorway. “Y/N, we need you for a briefing.” 

You turned around in your chair to see a blonde woman dressed in bright clothing. From what Spencer had told you about the team, you guessed it was the one and only Penelope Garcia. 

“Already?” you asked, then looked back to the HR manager.

“Y/N hasn’t had any training,” he said slowly. “Can’t the team wait until the next case?”

“Talk to SSA Hotchner,” Garcia stated simply. “Until then, the medical goddess is mine.” 

You turned back to the manager. He sighed in resignation.

“We’ll talk later,” he dismissed you.

You smiled professionally. “I look forward to it,” you said pleasantly before exiting the room behind Garcia. 

“You’ve seriously had no training?” Garcia asked in disbelief. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor as she walked.

“Not with the FBI, no,” you confirmed. “My training so far has come from different jobs.”

“Sorry honey, but that won’t get you a gun,” Garcia said. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, which caused you to almost run into her.  Garcia merely stuck out her hand.

“I’m Penelope Garcia, by the way. Technical Analyst, genius extraordinaire,” she said. 

“Oh, I know,” you chuckled, but shook her hand anyways. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She frowned. “How so?”

“Oh, Derek talked about you before my interview,” you quickly recovered. “I was nervous, so I asked if he could distract me. You were the first thing that came to his mind, I guess.”

She smiled widely. “My sweet, sweet boy,” she sighed blissfully, and continued walking.

Thank god Spencer told you all about Penelope and Derek’s flirty relationship. 

You followed Garcia into a room with a round table and a few TV screens close to the far wall. Almost all of the team was already sitting somewhere at the table. 

“Everyone, this is Y/N, the BAU’s newest beauty,” Penelope said. She patted your arm. “Take a seat, my dear.” 

You smiled shyly, sitting in the first empty chair. You ended up between Prentiss and Rossi. 

“Aren’t you supposed to start next week?” JJ asked curiously.

“Yes,” someone from behind you answered. Hotch walked into the room. “Plans changed. Garcia?”

Garcia picked up a remote on the table and pointed it to the screen. She began to hand out files. “So, this boy was found two hours ago in the middle of nowhere — well, technically he was found outside of Crawford, Arizona. My point is, he has clearly been to super hell and escaped some sort of captivity.”

“How do we know he wasn’t just dropped off?” Derek asked.

“He has fresh cuts on the bottom of his feet from the local cactus fields, and that's away from any through roads, and his skin is rubbed raw around his ankles from chains,” Garcia answered. She maintained her composure, but hints of disgust and sympathy showed through.

Derek nodded, looking at the photos in his file. “He must have had the chance to escape and took it.” 

“Or the UnSub could have  had him in transit,” Emily purposed.

You looked at the photos of the boy. They were absolutely heartbreaking. The boy shied away from the camera — only one of them caught his face, which was covered in grime and framed by ungroomed hair. His clothes were tattered, and the skin he had showing was covered in scars. You couldn’t imagine what that sick bastard put this boy through for years.

“Look at the whites of his eyes — he’s jaundiced,” you observed. “He hasn’t seen Sun in… awhile. Garcia, have they figured out the boy’s age?” 

“They don’t even know his name,” Garcia said sadly. “He hasn’t spoken yet. They’re lucky they got the pictures they did.” 

“Are there any missing children in the area, Garcia?” Spencer chimed in.

“None until now, but Sir, you may have more information than I do?”

“I do. Earlier tonight another boy was reported missing in Flagstaff,” Hotch confirmed. 

“That’s not far — can’t be a coincidence,” JJ said.

“Technically it could, but Arizona has the lowest abduction rate in the country, so the chances of these cases not being related are ridiculously slim,” Spencer replied nonchalantly. 

“This is a child abduction case?” you asked, startled. “What do you need me for?”

“I’ll tell you on the jet. We need to get moving — every second is crucial. Wheels up in 15,” Hotch said, then dismissed himself from the room. 

Per Spencer’s advice, you packed a go-bag the day you got a phone call saying you were accepted. He kept yours at his desk, ‘just in case’ you needed it before you had a desk of your own. You’d have to thank him for that later.

You learned on the plane ride that you’d be working with the boy who escaped. As Garcia briefly mentioned, local law enforcement and even hospital staff had yet to break ground with him. It would be yours and Spencer’s duty to change that. 

You wanted to ask why you were needed again, but the answer eventually came to you: Hotch, or someone else on the team, thought you’d bond with him. Considering they knew almost nothing about you, they probably thought you’d bond over trauma. 

A thorough background check is done on anyone and everyone that has even the slightest bit of interest in joining the FBI. You understood that. You accepted that. But you knew the hacking abilities Garcia was capable of, and thanks to Spencer, you knew how protective she was of the team. That woman probably dug up some of your darkest moments, put screenshots in an email, and sent it to her boss like it was an everyday occurrence. Hotchner probably knew everything you went through overseas: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

He knew you’d find a way to connect with the survivor. 

Hotch gave you a change of clothes on the plane; it consisted of a black t-shirt with the FBI decal as the left chest logo and ‘Paramedic’ written in big, white letters on the back. He also gave you a navy blue bomber jacket that, in terms of lettering, looked exactly like your shirt. You decided to leave the jacket off when you went to the hospital.

“You can’t examine his scars?” Spencer asked as the two of you followed the survivor’s doctor down the hall. 

“I can’t get close enough,” he corrected. “He has the most severe case of CER I’ve ever seen.”

“Conditioned Emotional Response,” you and Spencer said simultaneously. 

The doctor turned around for a brief moment. “You guys did your homework,” he remarked. 

“People experience and impose conditioned emotional responses almost every day,” Spencer continued. “In normal settings, CER is emotional discipline, or cause and effect. For example, if someone develops a fear of dogs after being bitten by one, that fear is a conditioned emotional response. After years of abuse, trauma, or toture, CER can be worse than PTSD.”

“He’s afraid of light and sound,” The doctor agreed. “We’re keeping it as dark and quiet for him as possible. He’s also been somewhere crammed — his legs show signs of advanced arthritis.” 

“Any idea how old he is?” You asked.

“It’s hard to tell. He has major skin and tooth decay, probably caused by the massive vitamin D deficiency.”

The doctor stopped walking when the three of you came to a door that was guarded by a police officer. 

“Best guess?” you pushed.

He sighed. “Maybe sixteen.”

“Thank you,” you told him, and he nodded before walking off. 

Spencer flashed his badge to the police officer in front of the door, and just like that, the two of you were let in. You clicked a button on the wall beside the officer, which opened the room’s automatic door. You followed Spencer inside.

The blinds drawn shut, and all medical gear in the room was turned off. The bed was empty, and the food on the tray was left untouched. You scanned the room, and eventually, you found the boy — he was curled up under the table in the corner of the room. You pulled the curtain in front of the door shut before approaching him. 

“Hey,” you said softly, crouching down on your knees. You kept a decent distance. “My name is Y/N, and this is my friend, Spencer.”

Spencer crouched beside you, offering him a wave. “Hello.” 

He cowered away, trying to make himself smaller. 

“We’re the good guys,” you promised, then paused. “Is it okay if I hang out with you for awhile?”

He didn’t respond, which you fully expected. Asking to stay wasn’t a formal request of yours; mostly, you wanted to silently show that he was allowed to be in control of some things.

You looked up at the stand, which held a plate full of fruit, an energy drink, and a bottle of water. Everything appeared untouched. You turned back to the boy, then briefly stood up to grab the water. 

“You must be thirsty,” you said, crouching back down. “Want some water?” 

You extended your arm, offering him the bottle. He swatted it out of your hand and across the room before backing up into the corner again.

“Okay, it’s okay,” you said gently, backing away to give him some more space.

“This is years of conditioning,” Spencer murmured. “I’ll go tell Garcia to expand the search.”

“Good idea,” you agreed. 

Spencer walked out, and with that, it was just you and the boy. 

You picked up the water bottle and sat against the foot of the bed. You let silence fill the room, hoping your lack of sound and movement would assure him you were nothing to fear. 

After awhile, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a quarter. You began rolling it across your fingers, stopping when the coin was wedged between your pinkie and ring finger. Then, you started over, and rolled it across your fingers again. You’d been practicing the trick for awhile: basically since you and Spencer met. It wasn’t his ‘disappearing’ trick, but it was fairly easy to learn and execute.

You eventually looked up to see the boy staring at you. He was still under the table, but his body wasn’t facing the wall anymore. You smiled softly and rolled the quarter across the floor. 

The boy laid it flat on the ground.

“I know you’re scared,” you said quietly. “You were taken away from your home and put in a place you didn’t feel safe. You spent the first few days scared out of your mind, wondering when he was going to just get it over with and kill you. Eventually, though, you realized he didn’t want to kill you — you didn’t know what he wanted. That scared you even more.” 

He stared at the quarter, but you had a feeling he was listening to you, not just hearing you.

“I know you think he can still hurt you, that he’s standing right outside that door,” you continued. “He isn’t. And even if he was, he’d have to go through me before he could get to you. No way would I let that happen.” 

The boy picked up the quarter and looked at it. Then, he rolled it out from under the table, and back to you. 

You picked it up before it could hit the ground. A small smile crossed your face. 

Slowly, over what you guessed was an hour, the boy made baby steps. Eventually, he began to move out from under the table. Once he sat across from you, no table or wall as his shield, you were able to turn on the overhead lights. He still had an aversion to sunlight, but you decided not to worry about that for the moment. 

You and the boy took turns with the coin, rolling it back to the other person when you were finished. You showed him a few hints and tricks on how to roll the quarter across his fingers, all without actually touching him. 

You caught movement in the corner of your eye. Spencer stood in the doorway.

The boy slowly scooted over. You stuck out your hand in reassurance. “It’s okay,” you promised. 

He sat still.

Spencer entered the room, taking a seat in the chair behind where you sat on the floor. 

“What did Garcia find out?” you asked Spencer. 

“She broadened her search, but there’s no one that matches his description,” Spencer replied, tone hushed. 

“Someone has to be missing this kid,” you said. 

Then, an alarm in the hallway went off.

The boy immediately scrambled across the floor, frantically making his way back under the table.

“No, no, no, that’s not for us,” you said, reaching out instinctively. “That’s for the doctors outside. It’s for the doctors, not us.”

Sure enough, an automated voice called ‘code blue’.

“It’s alright. It’s okay,” you said. 

He peeked his head out.

“It’s not for us,” you repeated. “Okay? You can come back out. I promise.”

He slowly made his way back over to you.

“There you go. That’s it,” you praised. You reached your hand out, holding the quarter. “Take it.” 

He took it quickly, covering it with his freehand.

“There you go.”

You sighed, turning your head to Spencer. “I got him to nod, but that’s about it.”

“And you asked him his name?” Spencer questioned.

You nodded. 

“Have you tried Spanish?”

“The language doesn’t matter if he won’t talk,” you spoke.

Spencer moved from the chair to the floor space beside you. “Mi nombre es Spencer,” Spencer said. “como te llama?”

Silence.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” You asked gently.

Once again, nothing.

“Can I see what you have there?” Spencer asked, a small smile on his face.

The boy stuck out the coin.

“Wow. Do you like eagles?” He asked.

The boy pointed to the wings.

“Yeah, the wings are beautiful, aren’t they?” Spencer agreed.

He reached up and touched his back. He pointed to the wings again.

“Wings?” Spencer frowned. “You have… wings, on your back?”

It clicked in your brain. “Angel?”

The boy looked at you.

“Is your name Angel?” You asked. 

Angel smiled.

_____________________

Part 4

Notes: Let me know what you think! Comments keep me motivated to write xo

[jordblorg]

two months ago, i wrote something i intended to write four months ago

in early march, i did my belated 2017 recap post, mostly (no, let’s be honest: entirely) for my own edification, but then i kept forgetting to post it on here because i live in a house without wifi and when i do have wifi i don’t have my laptop, but i spent the weekend housesitting and so i’ve been aimlessly on my laptop for an hour and i just remembered, oh, hey, that thing! i should do that thing. 

so. anyway. 2017:

from 2013 to 2016, i ended each year (or started the new one) with a recap post in some form. there were years where i didn’t feel much like doing it, but i always felt like the act of forcing myself to sit down and reflect, or at the very least remember and record, would be a useful one, if not in the present moment then certainly later. and it’s already proven true: every so often, bored and scrolling my own tumblr to try and see what it tells me about myself, i stumble upon these yearly recaps and remember something about the year that i had forgotten. sometimes it’s a specific event. other times it’s a feeling or something as specific as a food. and on a few occasions it’s been particularly delightful to see a self who has no idea what’s to come -- in 2013, for example, i visited d.c. with a friend. we spent hours walking around the supreme court building, hoping to spot a justice, to no avail -- until the moment we left, at which point we saw clarence thomas from a distance, and mainly just the back of his head. and it was thrilling.

(a year and a half later, i would spend an entire semester working at the supreme court. it was one of the happiest semesters i’ve ever had. on the first snow day of that winter, i talked about the weather with the justice standing in front of me in the cafeteria line.)

so for all these reasons, i wanted, or felt that i should want, to write a brief post recapping my 2017, in words or in photos or in memes, watercolors, you name it. and i never did. and since the new year began, every week or so, i’ve thought to myself, well, hey, this one in particular is kind of an arbitrary deadline, you should still do a lil recap. and i’ve also spent a few evenings reading the super-old entries of bloggers i’ve followed for a few years - not even people i know well personally! - because watching people learn and grow online, if that’s how they should choose to do it, can be fun.

perhaps at the end of 2018 i’ll write a post about this being the year i simultaneously wanted to bloviate endlessly about all of my opinions, and also wanted to take myself off the radar screen completely, where every day i want to quietly delete all of my social media apps from my phone but haven’t as of this writing because of some vague fear that something will happen? that i will want to know about right away? or that if i take my ear away from the ongoing conversation of smart and angry people on my twitter feed, i’ll lose learning opportunities, and then say something i should know better than to say, but not know better, because i deleted my twitter account? i tried to download two apps yesterday that severely curb one’s ability to access other apps, the Bad Apps, on one’s phone, but neither had the functionality i desired unless i paid for premium, which, at that point, can i justify paying to outsource my self-control when reality i feel like i should be able to do that myself? (is this a healthy framing? i don’t think i’m wrong, but i could probably stand to be more generous to myself, except that i don’t want to be generous, i want to have the willpower of teddy roosevelt, he who cured his own asthma basically through sheer force of will, absent all of the historic toxicity and baggage with which he must also be inextricably associated? except i also know better than to frame recovery/health narratives as a matter of willpower?) i’ve lost the thread completely at this point, assuming i was ever holding a thread in the first place?

one time, years ago, an older male relative asked me if i exhaust myself. and oh my god. i do.

anyway. here’s some free association about 2017, the year i keep accidentally thinking it is, after reminding myself that it is not 2016, which is the year in my heart that i believe it to be.

i. the beginning of 2017 feels like it was a hundred thousand years ago, and at this point last year i had no idea that i’d be in alaska and out of my old field completely, and at this point this year everything that happened to me in the first half of the last one feels like a dream.

when i think about the months of january through may, i remember the weeks on end where each day i woke up and felt a void in the center of my stomach where normally the feelings that motivate me go. i had a hard time with basic self-care. on more days than i am comfortable admitting, i would go home at the end of a workday where i’d achieved nothing, sit on the couch in my living room, surf the internet until i fell asleep, and then wake up, only to do it all again. i felt empty and blank, and underneath those thick layers of emptiness and blankness i felt the licking flames of self-hatred and terror, and so there i would sit, watching the hours go by, on my couch.

sometimes i saw my friend nathalia, and we would laugh, and that would take some of the edge off of the tension that was winding its way around my stomach and my throat.

(eventually, i saw a psychiatrist, and started treatment - and medication, which, by the way, please talk to me if you’re reading this and feel some weird internal resistance to taking medication for mental health issues, because i get it and i’ve been there, and your feelings are valid, but oh my god it was absolutely the right decision to start taking medication and i will gladly tell anyone why - but the point is that eventually, i broke down, and my dad got me into an appointment. i have never felt more exhausted than when i was trying to navigate health insurance and the mental healthcare system in this country while mired in a particularly vicious period of anxiety and depression. and yet: i could afford it. and yet: i had a parent to call, who had the time and energy and means to help, who had a friend in D.C. who made a recommendation, who was able to get me an appointment two weeks after i finally broke down to another person on the phone. i cannot imagine how i would’ve gotten through the past year without the many, immense privileges and outside support systems that i so often take for granted. i’m fighting with my own brain every day, still, and yet i am still luckier than i will ever know.)

i can still picture my short walk from the metro stop nearest my office to the building where i worked. my stomach sunk every day.

but there were some good days, too, where i didn’t have to go to the office, or even worse, the capitol, and instead got to go to my favorite building in the city, and do something i knew i was good at. they don’t let you keep the tickets you get when you’re admitted to the supreme court as a member of the press corps, because you have to turn them back in to the security guard once you’re seated, but after my first visit i tried to remember to take pictures. i knew what i was doing, and i felt like it mattered. i got some work linked by a website i admire. on at least one occasion, i wrote a story that included the voice of a source none of the national reporters on the case had chosen to include, and it was an important voice, and i felt pride in the story and in myself. in february, rupsha came and visited me and the rest of her friends on her birthday, and mollie flew into town for the celebration. we got day drunk at a local bar, and successfully begged off a slice of birthday cake from the strangers who were celebrating their own camaraderie at a different table. i found a framing co-op near my neighborhood, and it felt very adult to know how to get to the place where i could get nice things framed. nathalia and i fell in love with an exhibit at the hirschorn about ragnar kjartansson, so we went twice and stayed for hours, and both times it mattered less that i’d spent so many nights and weekends unable to muster the willpower or even desire to leave my apartment, to explore the city where i lived. sometimes, often, i felt afraid. i never went to the monuments at night. the first five months of 2017 proceeded apace.

another shiny moment in the muck: i spent new year’s eve and new year’s day in brooklyn, first at a neighborhood bar and later on a rooftop and eventually in my best friend’s apartment. i made nathalia laugh so hard with a joke about potatoes that she snorted champaign out of her nose. i slept in a tent set up on the kitchen floor, and did almost nothing, but very happily. we had a spontaneous bachelorette lunch at the MoMA.  i spent the night of january 2nd curled up on a tiny loveseat in a tiny apartment, with my college roommate and her boyfriend, and the next day i borrowed a blue dress, and the three of us took the bus to city hall and bought flowers on the way, and then we helped another of our old roommates get married. i could write about my memories of this day for a very long time. it was easily one of my happiest memories of the year. after the vows, we went and ate italian food in a near-empty restaurant. after we parted ways, i went to books of wonder, made my way to the bus that would take me back to dupont circle, and read a book bobby gave me for graduation, and cried and cried and cried.

later in january i covered the protest beat at the inauguration, and watched about 50 reporters swarm a single burning trash can, and later one single burning car. i wondered how many other cars were burning in the city for reasons less obviously political. speaking of, i read this poem about four billion times. the things that bothered me at the end of 2016, including but not limited to the privilege of perceived neutrality, continued to bother me well into the new year. they bother me still. on the day in the present that i am writing this, it is international [working] women’s day, according to whoever decides these things.

also in january: after five reporters covered every conceivable angle of the inauguration, i was sent alone to cover the women’s march. i made the front page and i thought the print headline was weird and off-putting. i don’t think back on any part of january with fondness, except for the part where i saw a drunken astronaut give an amazingly concise speech. the president tried, and mostly succeeded, to ban refugees from entering the country. my brother slept over in DFW airport, passing out water bottles and screaming at the top of his lungs. my parents got home, weren’t sure where he’d gone, and then spotted him in the background of the coverage on the TV news. my cousin got her first period at the women’s march.

in february, zach was deciding where to go to college, and we gathered in austin on the flimsy pretense of data-gathering. it rained the whole time. most nights, on my walk home, i’d pass by protests. i went on a handful of unmemorable dates. rupsha’s aforementioned birthday, the best weekend of the month by far. more work.

in march and april: coverage of a new supreme court justice. some watercoloring and some beautiful weather with nathalia, and some time, but nowhere close to enough, with others. three different passover seders, many hours spent listening to aimee mann. the white house press secretary referred to concentration camps as “holocaust centers” and said, out loud, to other educated adults, that hitler “didn’t even sink to the level of using chemical weapons.”

just kidding: four different seders, including the best one, with rupsha, in new jersey. boo wore pink and miles found the afikomen. the anchor stayed in my stomach until the very end, but i saw more live music: overcoats with liz, the wild reeds with nathalia, where we stood right in the front, holding a plate of nachos and singing along.

in may i could see the light at the end of a tunnel and i flew to san francisco and i wanted to stay forever. at brunch, the young couple to our immediate left let us hold their sweet baby while they ate chicken biscuits. we went into a pirate-themed store and the department of imagination and we found a man in a storefront at the alleyway, embroidering at the end of the world. my stomach was hurting but it felt inevitable and fine.

i left my job two weeks early and drove home and didn’t feel better, and my brothers graduated high school. josh spent the week wearing dresses that suited him and walked the stage at graduation in well-fitting black heels.

the summer was a mixed bag. i sat and felt anxious in a workplace in which i felt i was not thriving, and sometimes i went home and had panic attacks. but my roommate was a comical nightmare, and i felt loved and embraced by a community that spread its arms in all directions. i crashed on couches and in beds every night of the last three weeks. i went to museums with my college roommates. we went to clubs and stayed out all night. K, still happily married, prodded me onto a surfboard. we went to lake placid and it was wonderful; we were in brooklyn and it was wonderful; i studied for the LSAT i still thought i would eventually take and stayed out late and it was wonderful. S visited and it was sometimes wonderful, and we had a conversation we had needed to have for a long, long time. by the time he reached the point he’d been avoiding, two days later, we were separated on the phone, and i stood on the street outside of rupsha’s apartment. i took notes and cried.

and then...what? i spent a week in malala, oregon, sleeping outside and flinging myself as far away from everything as i possibly could. i cried again in the airport and i wasn’t sure why. i moved to anchorage, alaska, and gradually fell in love, and maybe a post about this city is coming another day. i wrote a tiny bit about my job. i take two buses to work every day, and two buses home. i decided to run a 5k, and i half-walked half-ran with some regularity, and felt good about my body and also weird about my body. i ran the 5k. i went on more dates. i felt happy and unhappy. i went on a handful of hikes before the snow came down. i slept in a freezing cold and wind-battered tent. i made toddlers laugh and then i learned their names. we threw a birthday party for avril lavigne and watched old meg ryan movies on VHS. i listened to more great music. i made latkes and sufganiyot for hanukkah. one day erin and i came home from the gym one frosty morning only to find everyone standing on the back porch, watching two moose, a mama and a baby, taking a nap in our back yard.

on the last week of the year, i house-sat for a family with two high-energy dogs and one low-energy cat. i took allergy medicine and made good use of the borrowed car. i walked the dogs past streets named after the solar system and i drove the car down the highway and to frozen patches of beach along the coast. i spent new year’s eve in sweatpants at the blue fox. none of us wore any makeup and erin sang three karaoke songs with gusto. the countdown to 2018 took us all by surprise. i started reading more often. that was also very good.

[jeninthebooks]

I was having trouble thinking of a way to start this post. The thing is, that last weekend was so, so special to me, and I didn’t want to sell it as less than it was. I guess I will start by saying that prior to going to Portland, I thought that my weekend would consist of me barely seeing my host family & taking a lot of Lifts.

That was not the case AT ALL. I began to realize that my trip was going to be different, when I was at the gate for my Southwest Airlines flight. I don’t know how familiar you are with Southwest, but I had never been on a flight with them before. The only reason I was this time, is because Emily had arranged my flight for me. Let me just say that it was life-changing.

From the minute I got to my gate, I was inspired. There was free WiFi & a stand for you to charge your phone (this helped me with my Thirteen Reasons Why binge). There were also these interesting columns, that I would come to learn were for organizing yourselves in a queue to board the plane. WHAT?? YOU DON’T HAVE TO STRUGGLE THROUGH A MASS OF PEOPLE TO BOARD?? CRAZINESS. I will say that I started to worry when I heard the announcer say that there were no assigned seats… I freaked looking at my boarding pass like something was wrong. I found articles, that basically told me that my seat, was a terrible one to have (end of the B group).

My fears were set aside, when I was able to find a seat at the front of the plane, between two women. I didn’t have to sit by a creepy dude (sorry to all the non-creepy dudes out there, but this is an actual fear I have. I am also sure there are many creepy ladies as well.), and was near the font, so I could get off the plane quickly. Also, let me just go back to the airline hosts for a second- outside of the plane (while you are waiting to board) and on the plane itself. They are amazing human beings! They are funny and put you at ease, real quick! They don’t seem to hate their jobs, and genuinely seem to like people. Even if they don’t, they are incredible actors.

I was also able to find a spot for my carry-on easily. THEN, when it came to the end of the C-group, there was a gentleman, who found a spot at the very front for his body, but didn’t see a place for his carry-on AT FIRST. Amazingly, he was able to switch some other’s bags into different containers (which nobody seemed to mind) and was able to fit his in, in three moves. No joke, EVERYBODY cheered for him. When the plane landed, he helped everyone in the vicinity, locate and hand them their bags. Way to go, stranger! Needless to say, this was an amazing experience. I really didn’t mean to write 4 paragraphs, on Southwest, and maybeeee this should have been a YELP review, but it was such a great opening to my weekend and needed to be shared. Everyone worked together and although, it was a bit of organized chaos, it was so so great to see such kind people willing to help each other out. It was like being on that plane created an instant bond-comparable to what Emily Arrow does, every time she brings people together. 

Smooth transition, am I right?? :) Emily surrounds herself with the best people. I always knew that, but somehow, it wasn’t really ingrained in my brain, as it was when I entered Zoey Abbott’s home. Let me start by saying that the only Lift I took the entire weekend was to get to Zoey’s home. For those of you who don’t know Zoey, she is a soon to be published illustrator, who also worked with Emily on Little Red Sled!

The minute I stepped into Zoey’s home, she was in host-mode. I also want to say, that i had LATE flight. I didn’t get to her house until a little after midnight. I was expecting to be shown to wherever I was sleeping and maybe see her in the morning? NO. Zoey wanted to know how my trip was, if I wanted wine (which she doesn’t even drink), water, if I wanted to look at picture books…it went on and on. She was incredibly funny and so lovely to talk to. I also probably bored her to death with my Kevin Henkes story. I am not trying to diss on LA hosts, but it was so enlightening to see how pumped Zoey was to host and how she didn’t seem to care what time it was. I don’t think that would have happened where I live and I was so grateful.

The next morning, after sleeping in my OWN ROOM, I was treated to a homemade breakfast! I got to meet her adorable and intelligent kids and their awesome dog Carrots. After, Zoey drove her daughter, illustrator Alison Farrell (look for her book, Cycle City in 2018!), her son and I to an amazing little restaurant called, Por Que No? If you need a recommendation on what to eat there, I had their fresh jamaica, and a Bryan’s Bowl with carne asada and chips. It was so delicious! I also loved that they had equality and “welcoming of all” signs posted everywhere. Furthermore, the thing that I keep telling everyone, when they ask me about my trip is that, they had an umbrella stand that said something to the beat of, “borrow an umbrella while you wait in line”. That still blows my mind. In LA, those umbrellas definitely would have been stolen. It’s a sad fact, but it’s the truth. We have a Little Free Library outside of Vroman’s and within the first couple months of it’s existence, someone had vandalized it. The umbrella stand was just something that showed me a huge contrast between Portland and home.

After getting to see Emily & her life mate, Alex (for the first time in months) and meeting all these wonderful new friends (Kate Berube, Karyn Lewis, Diane Adams & her sister, Danielle Davis & Deborah Hocking), we headed to Green Bean Books, which is a treasure in itself. Here is a photo of most of us, outside the store!

& here is a photo of some of us inside the store, with bookseller extraordinaire, Earl & author, Ashlyn Anstee!

We were tasked with the job of finding a book that best represented ourselves. I wish I could remember what everyone picked��the ones that I do remember, included: Hug Machine, The Lost House, Happy Dreamer, I Don’t Like Koala, This is Sadie, Love Is, Lyle Lyle Crocodile, and Chester’s Way.

Then we got a chance to discuss them all, in Green Bean Books’ wonderful patio. Here are some of the wonders I encountered while out there:

I just loved that everywhere you looked, there was something beautiful to behold. Also, Earl is an amazing bookseller. There were times, I felt like I was being put to shame because of all the new books he has managed to read! He definitely knows what he is talking about. If you are ever in Portland, I hope you get a chance to talk books with him!

I would also like to take a moment to mention that all of the awesome authors that joined in this weekend, all have super cool books out, or will be out shortly. Please see the following works of genius:

Kate Berube (inspired the Hannah & Sugar song)-My Little Half-Moon, out May 2nd! She also has the books, Hannah & Sugar & The Summer Nick Taught His Cats to Read

Danielle Davis-Zinnia and Bees, a middle grade novel, out August 1st!

Alison Farrell-Cycle City in 2018. It’s too early for info/art for it yet, but follow her on insta to *hopefully* see some in the future!

Ashlyn Anstee (inspired the No, No, Gnome! & Are We There, Yeti? songs)-Are We There, Yeti? and No, No, Gnome!, are available for purchase now!

Deborah Hocking-The Great Henry Hopendower, out June 6th! She also has the non fiction book, Build, Beaver, Build! available for purchase now!

Diane Adams (inspired the Two Hands to Love You, and Love Is, songs!)-Two Hands to Love You, Love Is and many more!

Zoey Abbott Wagner (inspired the Little Red Sled song)-Twindergarten, out June 20th & Oregon Reads Aloud, available now!

We also got to go to a lot of other cool food places during the weekend, including Pip’s Original Doughnuts (I would recommend their “The Dirty Wu”), Random Order Coffeehouse & Bakery (where I had the best chocolate cream pie) and Fire on the Mountain (in which I tried their El Jefe Challenge and failed miserably).

Do you see my little book and pencil, that I got from Green Bean Books in the photo above??

& NOW, ON TO THE REASON WE ALL CAME TO PORTLAND:

Emily’s Manager Oahn & Karin put together an incredible launch for her 2nd album, Storytime Singalong Vol. 2! Here they are below:

If their faces look sad, it’s because Emily is saying the most wonderful things about them on the other side of this photo!! #TeamArrow is a force to be reckoned with.

The launch was held at the Freemont Theatre and was just a perfect venue! Karin did so well with her choice! I’m going to try my best to explain, why this event meant so much to so many, including myself. Personally, I am so proud of Emily. She is only a little older than myself, and yet has created her own genre of music, her own business, is following her dreams and recently bought her own house. Seeing her perform her second album at the Freemont, was just the icing on the cake. I think everyone was a little teary at some point during the day. A lot of the authors present, had worked with Emily at some point and were hearing their songs live in front of a crazy big crowd. You can see it for yourself here:

It was so crazy, that at one point there didn’t seem to be a clear pathway. If you haven’t checked out Emily’s second album, it has some wonderful songs on it. They are:

Anything Can Be A Song

Explorers of the Wild Song

Hannah and Sugar Song

Be A Friend Song

Nana in the City Song

We Are Enough Song

No, No Gnome Song

I Love You Already Song

Don’t Hide Your Magic Song

Two Hands to Love You Song

And you can buy it now!

I know this post is incredibly LONG and that it seems like all I am saying is that PORTLAND IS AWESOME, EMILY IS AWESOME and ALL THESE AUTHORS AND PEOPLE ARE AWESOME. Let me tell you, THAT IS EXACTLY what I was trying to say. I just had so many words that I wanted to get out, in order to say exactly that. Could this have been edited? Probably. But hey, this is my blog. I want to thank you so much for reading and I hope that you get to hear these songs, read these books and visit this amazing city. I loved every second that I was there and with these people and won’t forget it or them. <3

Love,

Jen in the Bookstore

**A special shout out again to Zoey for hosting me, Oahn and Karin for arranging this whole thing, Emily for getting me there, and Zoey and Deborah for making sure I only had to take 1 Lift the entire weekend. **

Jen in the Bookstore Goes to Portland; How Southwest Airlines, an Emily Arrow Album Launch & a Bunch of Kind Portlanders Made My Weekend  I was having trouble thinking of a way to start this post. The thing is, that last weekend was so, so special to me, and I didn't want to sell it as less than it was.

[ssteezyy]

Interview With Cat Behaviorist Mikel Delgado

Mikel Delgado is a Certified Cat Behavior Consultant at Feline Minds, offering on-site consultations for cat guardians, shelters, and pet-related businesses in the San Francisco Bay Area. She is currently completing her PhD in Psychology at UC Berkeley, where she studies animal behavior and human-pet relationships. Mikel also blogs about animal behavior at catsandsquirrels.com. Mikel lives in Berkeley with her boyfriend, Scott, and their two rescue cats.

Why did you become a cat behaviorist?

I’ve been obsessed with cats for as long as I can remember! In 2000, shortly after one of my cats passed away, I started volunteering at the local animal shelter (the San Francisco/SPCA). I was particularly attracted to working with shy cats and cats who were having difficulty coping with the stress of being in a shelter. I couldn’t believe it when I found out that the SF/SPCA had a whole department dedicated to cat behavior!

I immediately signed up, borrowed all the behavior books in their library, and started volunteering there every free moment I had. I loved the experience of helping shelter cats become ready for adoption. I was also fascinated by the effects that pets have on humans – both good and bad – what broke that bond and led cats to end up in the shelter, and conversely, what attracted people to the cats they adopted.

I distinctly remember sitting at the dinner table one night after volunteering and telling my partner Scott, “I want to be a cat behaviorist.” He replied “You should go for it.”

About a year later, the SPCA had an opening for a Cat Behavior Specialist. I’d been volunteering so many hours that they offered me the job! I quit my other job (in Human Resources at a health food co-op) to follow my passion to work with cats, and haven’t looked back since.

What kind of training did you go through to become a cat behaviorist?

When I started at the SF/SPCA, I was mentored closely by the other cat behavior staff. There was a lot of reading involved, and I attended seminars and conferences on animal behavior when I could. Our job description was pretty broad: the largest component was assessing shelter cats to identify whether they were ready for adoption or needed more experienced volunteers to work with them first (such as cats who were fearful or prone to biting). We had a free behavior helpline that received over 100 calls a month for help. We trained staff and volunteers on cat behavior basics, we counseled people adopting shelter cats with behavior issues, and we offered public classes and produced educational materials related to cat behavior. It was a good mix of hands-on work with challenging cats and challenging humans!

In 2008, my co-worker, Dilara Parry, and I left the SPCA and founded Feline Minds together so we could offer in-home consultations. Two years later I started my PhD (and I’m finally almost finished!), so I’ve been balancing running a business with my academic work.

What are the most common problems cat guardians call you for help with?

Litter box avoidance and difficulties between cats are definitely tied for first place. Keeping humans up at night and attention seeking behaviors, such as meowing or knocking things off shelves would be next. Then we get a fair amount of calls for help with aggression toward humans, transitioning cats to indoors only, difficulties medicating, fearful behavior, and integrating cats with dogs.

You offer both in home consultations in the San Francisco/Berkeley area, and remote consultations. How do you approach an in home consultation?

The most important thing to me is building rapport with the client. I want them to be comfortable and honest with me as we discuss the situation. Fixing the behavior problem is a team effort that involves me, the client, and the cat. Clients fill out an intake questionnaire before the visit, so I come prepared with questions. We always start with just sitting and talking, I get more information about the situation, and start formulating a plan in my head.

I always let the cats come to me, so I interact with some cats more than others. I might observe where they are hiding and their body language, but it’s counter-productive to pull them out of hiding if they are fearful of strangers. It’s most important for me to see the environment, and what types of enrichment and resources the human has provided for their cat. The rest of the visit is spent going over specific recommendations, and I may demonstrate techniques (such as clicker training, how to get their cat to play, and managing introductions between cats). Every client gets a written summary and handouts, and I follow up with all of my clients to see how things are going (and to get their feedback).

How do you approach a remote consultation?

A remote consultation presents a few different challenges: there’s no face to face contact, and you’re either talking to only one person in the home, or you’re on speaker-phone. Even with Skype it’s less of a connection than meeting in person, but it is a little better. I have clients send me photos, videos, maps of their home to help me see the “big picture” but I always worry about what I might be missing – what I can’t see or hear or smell!

I remember one in-home consultation I did where the cats were clearly stressed out by the amount of sage-burning and essential oil plug-ins that were running in the home. These smells didn’t seem to bother the client but I could barely breathe and left with a headache. That’s an important detail I might have missed during a remote consultation!

Are there any problems you cannot address with a remote consultation?

If someone has no other resources available to them, then I feel like a remote consultation is better than no help at all. People may have gone through information on the internet and “tried everything” but they often need an outside perspective to help them take a systematic approach to solving a problem. Video, photos, and the layout of the home can certainly help make a remote consultation more effective, and I’ve helped people remotely with pretty much every type of behavior issue you can think of. That said, dealing with aggression between cats is probably my least favorite type of problem to address over the phone! If people are local, I always recommend an in-home consultation.

Tell us about your toughest case.

One that comes to mind is a client who had contacted me for help with their cat’s spraying. By the time I made it to the appointment a week or so later, the couple had already made a unilateral decision that the cat (who prior to that had been indoors only) was going to live outside. They had bought him a feral outdoor hut and had already moved him out. It was difficult because I had gone there thinking I was going to help them solve a problem, and instead they wanted validation for their decision (which I disagreed with). It broke my heart to think of this cat living the rest of his life outdoors without giving him a chance to change his behavior. Regardless, the difficult cases are not about the extent of the cat’s behavior “problem,” they are usually the ones where the humans are not willing to change their behaviors or where the bond between client and cat is clearly already broken.

Tell us about your most rewarding case.

It’s hard to pick just one! Anytime there’s a quick fix, it’s great. The client is happy, they’re sleeping through the night, the cat is using the litter box, all is well. I’ve also met some really amazing people who love their cats so much! Those are the rewards for dealing with some of the tougher cases that are not always a quick fix. However, even though the tougher cases are usually more work, and more follow up with clients, when you get them to resolution, it is absolutely the best feeling.

I had clients recently whose cats had been BFFs until something scared one of them – after that, they could not be in each other’s presence without breaking into a terrible fight. When I worked with the cats in the home, we were doing some introduction techniques on either side of a baby gate, and honestly, the whole time there was a tiny frowny face in the back of my mind. I knew the chances of getting these cats back together anytime soon were slim based on how these cats were behaving. There was a lot of fear, and a lot of aggressive posturing. But the clients were dedicated to working the plan, and it took a few months, but then one day they sent me a photo of the two cats cuddling and that made my day!

Beanie and Clarabelle

Tell us about your own cats.

Currently, I have two 13-year-old rescue cats, Beanie and Clarabelle. Beanie was a feral teenager that my business partner (and dear friend) Dilara trapped. Beanie needed a lot of rehabilitation, and I’d say it was about a month before I could take off the gloves when handling her! Now she is very sweet, but shy and mostly only attached to me. We adopted Clarabelle almost a year later; she was on the “kill” list at a local shelter for having an upper respiratory infection (which never needed treatment). Dilara pulled her from that shelter during an intake trip and transferred her to the SF/SPCA: it was love at first sight. Clarabelle is a real clown, an ambassador cat who likes to check out visitors and loves attention. The two of them get along really well; they spend a lot of time cuddling, and they make me smile every day. And I’d say overall, they are pretty well-behaved! I also care for an outdoor feral, the Town Crier, who I trapped and neutered in my back yard last year. So far I can’t get too close, but he shows up every day for breakfast and he loves catnip!

The Town Crier

For more information about Mikel Delgado, and to schedule a consultation, please visit FelineMinds.com.

Coming soon: Ask the Cat Behaviorist with Mikel Delgado!

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