Meet the orphan, or should I say, former orphan. Oh, I tried not to care, I really did. But it was no use. I fell hard for this little one.
The cat I called Fred (and my daughter called Rocket because of the way it rockets around chasing moths and chipmunks and blowing leaves until it conks out and curls up in an exhausted ball) has officially found a new home.
I talked to so many shelters and vet clinics and rescue operations who refused to take one more abandoned pet that I began to despair I would never find a place for this little critter. I knew I couldn't bring her home. Never mind that my husband was adamant about no more cats (he threatened to eat hummus every night for the rest of our lives, and since I have been blessed/cursed with a keen sense of smell, this was a cruel threat indeed.) No, the two rescue cats I already have would eat this one for breakfast. My dog Buddy, to his credit, behaved like the gentleman he is and the two got on like bread and jam but his opinion counts for nothing in this house.
One last fond farewell to the porch that was her home for five days....
Every story should have a happy ending. And this one is no exception. Today, the little stray cat who showed up at our cottage, starving for both food and companionship, has found a new home. The chance encounter with the woman on a plane many years ago has given this little foundling a new life. Three cheers for Laura G.!