Before I begin this little story, I have to state that I am not an animal person! Don’t get me wrong; I love admiring other people’s dogs as they walk by in the park. I’ll always stop to pet any pug, bulldog, or Frenchie -- there’s just something about those smooshy faces that grabs me right in the heart! I’ve also oohed and aaahed over hamsters, rats, mice, bunnies; I’ve squealed with glee at snakes, lizards, toads, and turtles -- but when it comes to actually owning an animal, I find the idea utterly terrifying!

This is why when my office assistant Catherine came in the other evening holding the tiniest kitten I’d ever seen, I was hesitant to jump into the cuddle fest that ensued. It was a losing battle, though, because the thing was so darned cute! She was so tiny she could fit into one hand, and she had the oddest little voice; it sounded like a sheep crossed with a cat! Catherine had been walking out of our building complex to catch the train home when she heard its pathetic mewling from inside a hedge. Evidently the little bundle of fluff was stuck amongst the lower branches, crying out in fear and hunger. Judging by the state of her dirty, tangled fur and thin, rib-baring belly, we assumed she must be the product of one of our local feral cats. There are a few that prowl around our office, including one we nicknamed “Grizzabella, the warehouse cat” -- and frankly, this kitten seemed to resemble her!