I began graduate school in 2011 and moved into a new apartment -- this time, a pet-friendly one. Two weeks later, I had to put down my childhood dog, Leo. I turned my sadness into action and immediately decided to adopt a pet in Leo's honor.
Arriving at the shelter, I knew I wouldn't be picking out an animal myself. As always, I walked in and asked to adopt the cat that they just couldn't seem to adopt out. The ones who get adopted but returned; the ones looked over everyday; the ones who languish for months and even years, waiting for a home of their own.
The shelter worker walked to the back room. I expected the cat to be needy-looking, maybe with a terrible temperament, or with a birth defect, or blind, or special-needs in some way. I didn't care; I just wanted to give one unlucky cat their luckiest day.
She walked out with KC, and I held her. I couldn't find any 'defect'; her temperament was sweet, too. Why, I asked, is this the most unfortunate cat here? What's wrong with her?
"Nothing," she replied. "She's just not 'special' looking enough. No one notices her when they come to adopt. It's been almost a year. She's giving up hope. She needs to get out of here."
And so she did. Arriving home, I carried her up the sidewalk in my arms. She began to struggle, hard -- I thought she was trying to get away from me. Then I realized -- she was seeing the door! And she knew that a door meant a HOME. HER home. She was so excited! I opened the door and she (literally!) flew across the entryway, overjoyed to finally have a home, so happily and violently that her back leg scratched my chest and left a permanent scar.
3 years later, she's my best girl. After reading this, I hope people go into their shelter and do as I did -- ask for the cat who needs a chance most. You'll get your best friend in return.
Mount Pleasant, MI
