I volunteer at my local animal shelter. I already had two perfect cats and was adamant about not bringing home another.
I was sitting in the kitten room when a little black cat crawled out from under a cage and started rubbing on me. I pet him for quite a while. Later that day, I asked a veteran volunteer who the black kitten was. She had no idea and had never seen him before. I was surprised. I asked a staff member, and she said his name was Clint, but he was always hiding, so she only knew that he was seven months old and had been there since kitten hood.
The following week I was back in the kitten room petting a kitten on a cat tower. Suddenly Clint came out from under the cage again, walked right over to me, jumped on the cat tower, and purred. I started petting him and before I knew it, an hour had passed. The shelter was closing so I had to leave.
Over the next few weeks, I learned that he only came out for me. I was starting to get hooked. My husband convinced me to take him into the shelter to meet him, so we did. Clint was gone. I was disappointed but happy he found a home.
When I went back for my shift, I found out he was sick in quarantine. He remained sick for six weeks. I was heart-broken. Then on week seven, he was there. He ran straight over to me and started rubbing on my legs and meowing, like he was waiting for me.
I took him home that day. He never leaves my side.
On Halloween night of 2011, I was relaxing with a movie after a crazy day. All the trick-or-treaters had gone home. Then the sound of a crying cat caught my attention. Seeing that I already had 3 cats, I checked on each one. All of them were fine, but I still heard the cries. I grabbed a flashlight and headed outside. The sounds grew louder with every step I took towards the trees. In the darkness, I saw a very small kitten in the brush. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
He was skin and bones, half sticking out of a plastic shopping bag that was tied closed. His face was bloody. My heart sank, and I slowly reached over to rip open the bag. As soon as I removed him from the plastic, I knew I had to do something. I went inside to find a small blanket for him. To my disbelief, he followed me into my home, where my other three cats immediately greeted him. I rushed around, looking for washcloths to clean him up, and before I knew it, my other cats had shown him to the food dish. He was so happy to be eating. I knew at this point he had stolen my heart.
After he was done, I cleaned his face and got him to the vet. He and a whole litter of black cats had been dumped on a major highway, and he was homeless.
That night as he lay on my pillow, cuddling me, I realized that he would never be homeless again. Now Sam is almost 3 years old and is a happy, healthy, loving young man. I was pretty sure I rescued him, but he rescued me.
Read more at http://blog.theanimalrescuesite.com/black-cats/#FfMubizrxsYvDMmr.99
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