My Spunky Angel...

You've no doubt heard the phrase, "Small but mighty." The beautiful, petite creature in this photo came into my life one dark night in September, 1996. I was at work and busily posting my activities on shift when a noise broke the quiet. Walking toward the side door out to a drive way, I paused to grab a broom thinking that I might need to somehow defend myself.

What awaited me, however, was not another human but a clowder, which scattered into darkness and the safety of foliage, at my approach. Feral cats were common in many neighborhoods then and the nineties saw a rise in TNR efforts as well as rescue groups and county shelters in an attempt to deal with the problem.

The immediate situation demanded clean up, so the broom was put to good use. As I bent to place one of the larger bins upright, a loudly mewling ball of fur moved into my hand and I found myself staring at the most intense eyes I had yet to encounter. No bigger than my palm, this kitten was clearly hungry and from the looks of things, motherless.

Lacking anything feline at my worksite, I took her into the office, found a small box and a towel and wrapped her up while I went in search of water.  She wasn't having it, and insisted on clawing through the cloth until free and then sitting next to my work notes, watching intently. I left and returned at intervals throughout the night. As she observed this routine, she would move to and from the safety of the box. Finally, as dawn was breaking, she ventured tentatively into my lap, her mewling supplanted by constant purring.

As I placed the tiny seductress on the floor of my car and made a beeline for Samantha's vet's office, I thought about leaving her there for adoption. Bathed, given medication for ear mites, freed of fleas, fed and pronounced fit for a home after blood work, I was presented a bill for $200, given a bag of food and a bottle and kitten milk. When I protested, the vet simply smiled and said, "She'll need vaccines and spaying in the next six weeks." With that, she disappeared, leaving me with a strange kitten and no earthly idea of how to integrate her into a 450 foot space already occupied by a cat.

Sam took one look at the box, drew her head back, hissed at me for the first and only time in her life and promptly stomped away, sitting with her back to me on our bed. It wasn't until the kitten climbed out and walked over to her that Samantha's ire retreated. Seeing the skinny girl for the baby she was, Samantha did what any reasonable adult female would do, she took charge.

Grooming, sleeping, eating, stalking and playing filled their days together as did lessons in manners and hierarchy. When Angel attempted to steal Sam's food, she was seized by the scruff of the neck and dropped in her own bowl. If she failed to bury her litter appropriately, into the box she was hauled until the task was completed...to be continued...