When I first moved to Arkansas from Pennsylvania my boyfriend promised me that (as soon as possible) we would get a cat. This happened a lot earlier than expected, as we soon took in a stray who exploded into kittens a month later. After becoming attached, a "lose the cats or leave" ultimatum from the landlord, moving to a more pet-friendly location, and giving up all but two of our fur babies we decided there would be no more cats.
Some time later we found ourselves in one of the more rural towns nearby, picking up a car (yes, a car) his brother asked us to babysit while he was away for a few months. It was dark, but in the headlights my boyfriend noticed that there was a tiny kitten hiding in a wooden crate nearby. We coaxed her out so we could get a look at her, and though we felt there was not much we could do we decided to come back at a later time to check on her.
We were getting ready to leave when I noticed that the kitten had moved herself and was now sitting in front of the car's tire. Not wanting the poor thing to get run over, I picked her up - she instantly curled up against my chest and started to purr the strongest, roughest sounding purr I had ever heard. My boyfriend looked at me and said something like "We're taking her home, huh."
Her first vet trip was the next day, where he told us she seemed to be about two months old - with fleas, ticks, worms, and a bad upper respiratory infection. We believe now that we may have found her just in time. She received shots, medicine, and was cleared to go home with us.
Today Gizmo is our eternal kitten, always playing and chasing her two big sisters around our apartment. She loves us, and she makes sure that we know it. It's truly amazing what a difference that a little care and a lot of love can make in an animals' life.