Miss Kitty

A couple of months ago I rescued a kitten from the industrial park where I've been working. It was a dark and stormy night - it was! - and bitter cold.

"Mew! MEW! "MEW!!!!", she cried. LOUDLY. And not quite kitten-like, either. More like a laser, cutting through the darkness and rain. "Find me, FIND ME, FIND ME!!!!!" I decided to look for her, despite the fact that I was half-convinced she was not actually a kitten, but rather a serial killer pretending to sound like a kitten, luring me to certain death in the far reaches of the industrial park. But find her I did, cowering between two giant semi tires. Despite asking so persistently to be found, she refused to come out and remained just out of my reach.

I had to leave her. I was already running late, and this was back when I still cared about delivering each and every paper on my route by 5:30 a.m. or else! I drove like a demon. I ran my apartments like a woman possessed. All I could think about the entire time I was tossing papers was that tiny little kitten. I cried as I finished and headed back to the station, praying that she would still be there.

She was. I cried again with relief, managed to get her out from the same spot I'd left her two hours earlier, and brought her home in a box. A box that said "MEW!" at Steve when he opened the front door for me. A box that made him open his eyes wider than they've ever been and ask, "What did you DO???".

After a day or two of getting cleaned up and fattened up, she started purring and cuddling. She was a whopping one pound:


After less than two weeks, she had almost doubled in size, and had found her spunk and personality:


She was a pretty little calico that we refused to name. She had lots of nicknames, but most often we referred to her as Miss Kitty. We didn't intend to keep her, as two cats are more than enough .. but we were absolutely smitten with her, despite all the work. Crawford was learning to tolerate her, even starting to play with her a bit (and once letting her cuddle with him during nap time - what a sight!), but Beeker absolutely despised her and was unrelenting in his torture of her.

We found her a new home with a gal from Steve's softball team. We both cried all night after dropping her off. Everything set us off: the little stuffed hippos she would wrestle with. The bedroom door that she loved to hide behind, smashing as much of her face as would fit through the crack while waving her paw around madly. The spot of goo that she left, licking the mirror when she first saw her reflection. The pile of clothes on the floor that I couldn't bear to pick up, because she had decided to make it her "big girl" bed.

We wondered how on earth people who do foster care for children can possibly bear to let them leave. We couldn't even handle being foster parents to a kitten for two weeks, as we felt so vacant and heart-broken when she was gone!

We have been reminiscing about her ever since. "Remember when Miss Kitty would sleep tucked into the front our zip-up sweatshirts when we were at the computers so our hands would be free to type?" "Remember when she pranced into the living room for the very first time and looked so pleased with herself for exploring new territory?" "Remember how she always wanted to run around and play in her litter box right after using it .. ugh, maybe let's not remember that one."

We tried to follow up with Miss Kitty's adoptive mom a week later, and never heard back. I've been guilt-ridden ever since, imagining every terrible scenario that may have occurred. Happily, we received an email and pictures this week, and are so thrilled that she has a name (Kalee) and a friend who provides her with cuddles!


Still a bag lady, despite our efforts to rescue her from the mean streets of Troutdale! Hee.