Richard Branson: Virgin Visionary

Little Dickie Branson began his career with us as a three-week-old virgin wunderkind. Wild yet regal from birth, he was the child of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, and Who’s Yer Daddy.

Elvira had been abandoned, and, in seeking comfort from new humans, quickly learned to fear us all. It took more than a year and three litters to gain her trust.

Capturing Branson and his siblings, however, was an adventure which required subterranean crawls and the dismantling of concrete barriers, but we had no time to waste. Someone in the neighborhood was mutilating and killing cats and kittens, and they’d already gotten to one of his brothers. When Elvira brought his lifeless body to our door, we knew they couldn’t stay where they were…so we nabbed her.

She was a basket case until reunited with all of her remaining children [a feat which took two days to accomplish. We got three the day we caught her, but the fourth required a second trek]. When they were once again a happy family, she settled in, nicely. So sweet, so beautiful…petite, with thick, lustrous, fluffy black hair and bright green eyes…an extraordinary mother [whose children are now almost ten years old -- and still nurse].

The kids were [and remain] traumatized. Though it most likely began in utero, and was intensified by whatever they experienced when their brother was killed, their emotional state couldn’t have been improved by our efforts to catch them, however gentle and well-intentioned our methods. But they were also hilarious. Whenever they were afraid [translation: whenever humans were near], they’d curl themselves into tight little balls, hide their eyes, and tell themselves that, if they couldn’t see us, we couldn’t see them. It was a good two years before we could handle the girls without receiving the full contents of their bladders. They scratched, bit, hissed, and spit when captured, but once reunited with their mother and indoors, they never did that, again.

Three black, one blond, the golden boy was in a class by himself. He would sneak away from the family unit, every chance he got. Then we’d find him alone, standing upright, full weight resting on his tail, looking every inch a meerkat…staring intently at absolutely nothing, as though peering into the future. By the time he was two months old, he had the head and mane of a lion, and the body of a hyena. But it was “the vision  thing” which had us transfixed.

They arrived when I still believed [quite naively, I'll admit] that the immediate future was all about my patent. I was convinced that, if I could just reach Richard Branson, my own visions would become manifest. Surely Richard Branson would “get me.” Richard Branson would understand that patented dog biscuits shaped like little pairs of pants and called “GEE! Your Crotch Smells Terrific” are sheer brilliance, though lesser mortals may find me “immature and pornographic.” I immediately “got” blondie, and blondie “got” me. So when it became clear he could not go out for adoption, I named him Richard Branson [because they're literal doppelgangers]…

He’s still a virgin, and he’s never lost that vision thing. It’s so strange, and I wish I could know what he sees. He’s loved and feted by all of the Fabulous Celebrities, but remains extraordinarily down-to-earth and humble. Very much “a family man,” he’s also something of a loner. Serene and even-tempered, in ten years I’ve never once seen him lash out in anger or fear. He’s firm, but sweet. Just like his mother [though now three times her size].

Having reached a veritable galaxy of unreachable stars over the past decade, our Fabulous Celebrity SpokesCreatures are testament to my doggedness. But I never did reach Richard Branson, in human form. That’s the safari of which I still dream. Perhaps when the kids have gone to college! The I Ching insists “that which truly belongs to one can never be lost, even should it be thrown away, a thousand times.”

Almost forgot…one of the funniest things about Branson is his love of water. He stands in the bowls when he drinks [and that's when he seems most leonine]. One day we hope to build them a rock waterfall with a small pool at the base, because he’s not our only water-baby. He’ll swim and sit in the pool, happier than a pig in slop, with a big grin on his face and blue eyes sparkling…and that will make us smile, too.