It was 14 years ago. My daughter Annie watched as a truck rolled over but didn’t hit a small animal running across the country road. She was directly behind the truck, and she wasn’t sure if what she saw was a baby squirrel, or a rat, or a little groundhog. But as she watched it run into the field of weeds, she realized it was a tiny kitten. She pulled over and walked into the field, calling. The kitten emerged from the underbrush, ran right up to her, meowing. She picked it up and put it in her shirt, got into the truck and headed straight for the veterinarian’s office. The kitten was basically a tiny skeleton–it had been out there for awhile, and the vet said it was about a day away from dying from starvation. Welcome, Macintosh. I adopted him that day, and he was the sweetest cat. He loved to peep at us. He would do anything (almost) for treats. He was the last in a long line of cats that we had at the “old house.”
When we moved to the apartment, he loved it. He got to go outside for the first time, and he and I sat on the deck at night (fifth floor; he couldn’t go anywhere) and look at the city lights.
Macintosh developed cancer, and we had to say goodbye last week. My heart broke. However, I thought I might possibly live without a pet. Other people seem to do it.
That lasted one day. One horrible, sob-like-a-baby day.
Then, I began to look up cat rescues. Annie, that same daughter who saved Macintosh, had very recently adopted from LiFeline Rescue in Dayton. So once again, Annie was responsible for saving another cat and her mother simultaneously. Well, I have to give credit to Annie’s husband, Josh, who is the one responsible for finding LiFeline Rescue.
So this happened: meet Hattie, the tiny kitten with a boop nose, beautiful markings, and a combination of confidence and snuggability that won me the minute I saw her push her littermates out of the way and stick her paw out of the cage to get my attention. She purred the moment I picked her up (the purr test; they must pass the purr test–invented by my sister). If a kitten doesn’t purr the moment you pick it up, you must not adopt that one. She passed the purr test with flying colors.
So. Hattie is home now, she is the boss of the place already, and my heart isn’t quite so heavy. I think Macintosh would approve.