Saving Scooter

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They say when one door closes, another opens. I was still mourning the loss of a beloved dog and feeling blue, when one day, as a storm raged outside, a piercing shriek startled me. Outside, I discovered a little tuxedo kitten. As I reached out, she disappeared.

I discovered later that a feral cat, subsisting on garbage, had been killed by a car, her kittens scattered. Thinking I'd never see the kitten again, I later found her nose-to-nose through the porch screen with my housecat Boo. I offered food to the baby and the starved kitten ate so fast I thought shed devour the plate.

I named the waif Scooter because she scooted away if I approached. She lived under my porch, sleeping in old blankets I put there.

As autumn approached, the kitten showed no signs of socialization; I worried about the coming winter. Scooter would make hasty visits to my porch, if I left the door ajar and remained quiet.

As a second generation feral, everyone told me Scooter couldn't be tamed. But I simply didn't accept that.

As Thanksgiving approached, nights turned cold. One night I made a bed for Scooter on the porch. The next morning, I coaxed her into the house. Scooter ate, curled up on a chair, and never went outside again!

It took a month until I could pet her. Now Scooter is a happy, loving and pampered little house cat, who leads the good life and plays with Boo. She remains shy of strangers, so we take one day at a time.

The best thing I ever did was adopt this little nomad, for Scooter really is an angel in a tuxedo. Little Scooter taught me the value of patience and the strength of love.

Elizabeth Harper
Bridgeton, NJ

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