Once upon a time it was the day before Thanksgiving in Practically Canada. And bitter cold. The night time lows were getting well below zero and the wind chill was simply brutal.
My parents were coming in from out of town later that evening, so I took a moment in the afternoon to get a few last minute supplies, groceries {and coffee} for the days ahead. I was only gone an hour. When I returned I did what I always do as I turn into the driveway: as the steering wheel guides the car over the curb I push the garage door opener. That way it’s open just enough to drive under by the time I roll up to the door.
But this day there was something different when the door opened. There was something furry on the saw table. It was small and dark. My first thought was that it was some kind of rodent. Then it turned its face toward me and I realized it was a kitten. But as fast as it looked at me, it hopped off the table and scurried off to hide in the depths of the garage.
Eventually I got my hands on a cold, squirmy kitten. She was so happy to be held and started purring right away. She nestled into my neck and put her face in my scarf. Precious. I sat her down to go inside and get something for the little one to eat and some warm milk to drink. However, when I came back moments later she was gone. I could hear her meowing. Somewhere distant. Somewhere muffled. I left the food on the table and headed back inside. After all, it was bitter cold. As I headed inside one question was still on my mind: How on earth did this kitten get into the garage? Who knows.
Hours later when Derek got home I asked him if he saw anything unusual in the garage when he parked. Nope. So I told him {not to be mad} to come outside with me. When we went outside the milk was gone, the food was gone…but there was no cat. Just muffled mews. We looked. Under the cars, behind the scrap wood, under the paint shelf. Nothing. Finally, we tracked the sound to my car. Derek popped the hood, thinking we might be able to see her if she had crawled up on the under body.
And there she was. Curled up, keeping warm on the engine. Her whiskers were shorter on one side than the other, a little fur seemed burned..which led us to believe that she came to be in the garage because she rode home. I think she crawled up to the warm hood in a cold parking lot and stowed away back to my house.
But I had a problem. A kitten with no home, a cat of my own who hates other cats, closed shelters for the long holiday weekend.
We popped both hoods and left the kitten over night. On Thanksgiving Day the one and only Katie {cat lover} came over to pick up a cinnamon roll after our morning run. I showed her the kitten. She held it. And just like that…BAM. Thanksgiving miracle. The kitten rode home with her that morning. Now she lives happily ever after with Katie, Sean, and of course…her big brother Bandit. Precious, right?
I love a happy ending.
Amy
