I had been feeding a pretty orange feral cat for about six months, he wouldn't come in the house, so I fixed him up a nice sheltered spot in the garage, where he could come and go. Later that summer Orange Kitty, as I called him, came walking up to my house with a black, tiny, furry ball, it was a kitten, barely six weeks old. I scooped him up and fed him and took him to the vet where he was treated for ear mites that were so severe they left his ears scarred. I have had him for over seven years now and he is such a sweet kitty. He sleeps with me curled up in my arm. He didn't grow to be very big, so I named him Baby. I think Orange Kitty brought him to me because he knew I would take very good care of him, because after he brought me the kitten, I never saw him again.

Wendy Sawyer
Saint Paul, MN