I lost my 22-year-old cat in 2009. She had been my kitty since I was 5, and I was heartbroken. I wanted another pet but just couldn’t bring myself to pick one; animals had always found me and I figured when the time was right, an animal would show up.
Fast forward two years, my husband called me and told me I needed to come to his work to pick up a tiny kitten. The kitten had climbed his leg when he was in the alley, and he found out from a neighbor this was the last surviving kitten of a litter that had been born a few weeks earlier. My husband had wanted a dog, but as soon as that little cat picked him, we had a cat.
I drove as quickly as I could to the warehouse and was so excited to see a dirty angry little kitty trying with all of his might to get out of the carrier. I called my vet and drove 45 minutes across town. I had grown up with lots of cats, and this was, by far, the loudest, bossiest, angriest little cat I had ever seen, but I loved him instantly. He yelled at me the entire drive and attacked my thumbs while I sent text messages at the vet.
He was dirty and had ear mites, but they treated him and told me he was only 1.2 pounds but was probably about 9-weeks-old. He yelled at us the whole first night, sitting on the couch looking right at us and scowling as if he couldn’t understand why we didn’t know what he was saying. And then he curled up on the pillows next to our heads to sleep. He was home.
Since then, he has become an amazing cat, he travels with us everywhere, walks on a leash, goes camping, swims at Lake Powell, and he has even been on top of several 14ers here in Colorado. He is still very loud and bossy but we wouldn’t want Paul to be any other way.
Story submitted by Andrea McMillen from Aurora, Colorado.
This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!