Adopted from the Animal Shelter: Cozy the Cat

Poozer had disappeared. How can a cat suddenly vanish? We hunted for days, worried that a hawk had swooped down, scooped her up in his talons and eaten her for lunch, or that she'd become injured and lay hidden from sight. We looked under every bush, and then it dawned on us-maybe she'd wandered and someone had picked her up and taken her to the animal pound.

We hurried to the Laramie animal shelter. By now it'd been almost a week, and the shelter only held animals for seven days. When we arrived there, the young man at the desk looked disinterested, but apparently, he felt almost obligated to talk with us.

I looked at him, hoping to catch his eye, but he stared at paperwork on the counter in front of him. I asked, "Has a white cat come in?"

Our young son stood on his tiptoes to look over the counter at the guy. "Her name is Poozer."

My husband smiled at our boy as I said, "I don't think the man needs to know that part, Sweetheart."

The guy shuffled the papers and stared at a speck on the counter, then finally answered. "Nope."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, do you mind if we walk through and look at the cats, just to be sure?

"Go ahead."

We walked into the area where the cats resided in cages, and it only took a glance to see that Poozer wasn't there. However, who could resist petting kittens when they're mere inches away?

As we walked past the cages, touching each mewing ball of fluff, a shelter attendant entered the room. I asked, "How long will these cats be here?"

"They're scheduled for euthanasia tomorrow."

I gulped; feeling like my heart had leapt into my throat. All those beautiful, purring kittens would die in less than twenty-four hours! I looked around, tears threatening to form in the corners of my eyes. And then I saw her. No, not Poozer, but the ugliest cat I'd ever seen in my entire life. Which meant all those beautiful kittens and one ugly, half-grown cat would die on the morrow.

My heart went out to her. Adoption might still happen for the cute kittens, but what chance did the ugly cat have when her muted markings made her look like a lopsided jester? All the same, I reminded myself that we were there looking for Poozer, not to rescue a cat that looked like she'd been dunked in cans of old paint.

As we walked past the cages again, the kittens tumbled and played with each other. When we neared the ugly cat, she moved as close to the bars as she could, mewed, then reached her paw out and patted my arm as if to say, "Please, please take me."

We did.

We never found Poozer, but from the moment we took the ugly cat home, she was the cuddliest feline in the house. Because of that, we named her Cozy. She remained the size of a half-grown kitten, her colors always muted, but her coat eventually developed a sheen, and she never ceased to want to cuddle or to sit cozily in a lap.

Over time, the elderly gentleman who lived next door took a shine to her, and he'd talk to her when he went outdoors. She'd meow back at him and run to his porch, where he'd feed her fish and other tasty treats. They developed a close friendship.

Cozy lived to a ripe old age, and although she was still the ugliest cat that we'd ever rescued from an animal shelter, her heart was beautiful and filled with love. Eventually she passed away, and we buried her on the back half acre where she'd enjoyed wandering.

Though it's been many years, we still miss her. And so does her friend, the elderly gentleman next door.

Sources: Personal experience