One of my cats, little Maeve, came from the home of a hoarder. The woman left her home to the shelter where I volunteer and when they went out to it they found 90 mainly unsocialized cats living there. Most of them had to go in the feral enclosure and the shelter extended the outside area to accomodate such an influx of cats, but the majority of them couldn't adjust. They refused to come inside, wouldn't eat, and would be found dead day after day. Maeve is one of only about a dozen who survived.

She is the cat who will run to the door to greet me when I come home and she adores having special one-on-one cuddle times with me. She 's a very shy and sweet cat and I sometimes visualize how she must have survived in that house, fighting her way to food and without attention.

I'll never forget how I adopted her. One of the shelter workers had taken me into the socialization room of their feral area to look at a black cat she really wanted me to take. Maeve (then called Eeyore because the shelter had to name 90 cats all at once and used Disney characters) watched me the whole time I was in the room. Every time I looked around she was sitting quietly in the middle of the floor looking right up into my face. It didn't matter how much time I spent with the other cat (and I did adopt Belle also) or that I didn't pay any attention to her, she never stopped focusing on me. I know you have all experienced this also, that look on a cat's face and in their whole demeanor that says "you've got to choose me, I have to get out of here." Finally, I turned to her and said "You are coming with me" and she was on my lap and into my arms in seconds. I could barely get her to go down on the floor again so that I could get a carrier.