In just a matter of moments, a clear sky became a foreboding dark grey-blue and the wind began to howl. The back door of the office began opening and shutting from the wind's force, making the office alarm system ding continuously. We locked ourselves in and waited to see what would happen. It's the kind of sky you see before a major storm, something we haven't been strangers to this summer.
Suddenly, my co-worker exclaimed. "Hey, there's a kitten outside our door!" I looked out the front window, and sure enough, a tiny feline was perched on the steel railing, terrified and crying her head off. Co-worker picked her up and brought her in.
|She was a bit freaked out at first.|
For my quirky co-workers, it didn't take long for the surprise of a cat in the office to wear off:
Co-worker: Hey - we should put her in a box and put some cardboard wings on it and fly her around the office! My cat always really liked that!
Savia: We could name her Amelia, after Amelia Earhart.
Co-worker: We could name her Amelia Hairhart!
And, so, she received a fitting moniker. After all, she could have easily been blown away by those gale winds, had she not found her way into our office.
I texted my contact at the animal rescue organization that I volunteer with, and she told me to take Amelia to the vet to see if she was old enough to be spayed. After learning that, yes, she was old enough (which shocked me, because she was so small that I would have pegged her for four months old), we booked her spay and I took her home to stay at my place for the weekend.
|Amelia Hairhart chills in my bathroom sink. What's up with cats in sinks anyway?|
I spent as much time as I could cuddling her over the four days she lived with me. It was hard not to fall in love. Amelia is one of the sweetest, most affectionate, darling cats I've ever met.
Notice I said "cat" there instead of kitten? Well, when I picked her up from her spay, they told me that she was actually a year old, and had likely already had a litter of kittens. I was shocked again. I had accepted that she was likely six months old, but a year? And she kittens already? Wow.
I then took her to her new foster home with an awesome foster mom who had taken care of two of my previous rescued kittens. Amelia cased out the joint, then promptly curled up on the couch and fell asleep. I knew she would do well there, but I still couldn't leave her. It took me two hours before I could tear myself away from petting her soft fur.
The next morning, I messaged her new foster mom to find out how Amelia's first night went. I told her that I already missed the kitty so much.
The foster mom emailed me back with an update and this picture:
|I have to admit, this picture made me laugh and also cry a little.|