In 1976 my BF, Jerry and I were in the backyard as we saw these kids literally dragging this poor cat tumbling down the alley on a rope. He casually walked up to them, said Hi, and picked up the cat and asked them about their day while he surreptitiously untied the rope on the cat in his arms. After a few minutes the kids said they had to go home so Jerry said goodbye and turned away, still with the cat. "Mister, that's our cat!", to which he replied, "Not anymore." We named him Spot for the black spot on his side, thinking it was funny because it's a dog's name. This sweet little Angora mix was my companion for the next 20 years, with me through all sorts of turmoil in my life. He was happy to have a loving home (no more ropes!) and I had the best friend you could imagine, always there to comfort me or play.
Spot was so intuitive; he knew when someone needed help. Years down the line we had a mentally challenged cat named OC. Spot would patiently spend hours with him teaching him to catch voles and chipmunks. When I was sad, he knew, and curled up with me.
Spot's gone now, but he was my (well, Jerry's) first rescue, the first of many and the best cat ever.
FORT WAYNE, IN
