I found this cat, that someone dumped behind our old house. She had a litter or kittens, and so we were feeding her. One day she was inside the house eating and I was working with her to tame her. My mom yelled at me because she was a stray and could tear me up. Well I sat down right next to her and started talking baby talk to her. I reached out to pet her and she backed away a little bit. So I left her alone for a few minutes but kept talking to her. I reached out again and she didn't back away. I got to pet her I was so happy. She ate all the food I had set out for her, so I got up to get her more. She walked away to hide, but once she smelled the food she couldn't stay away.

I would work with her almost every day. Finally one day she came in rubbed up against my leg, so I reached down and picked her up. I found out that she didn't have claws. So of course I figured I was old enough to make an "adult" decision, and I was going to keep her as my cat. Her kittens were old enough and found other homes.

I started working so I could save up to get her fixed. I made the appointment, and went to get her in the car and she took off across the street. I tried to chase her but that only made her run faster. So I left her alone but left the back door open so she could get to her food. I called and canceled her appointment.

A few months go by and we find out that shes pregnant again. So she had her second litter of kittens. They were the cutest little things I have ever seen. After they got old enough they went to good homes. Most of which I still see on a regular basis.

Then she had her last and final litter of kittens. She had 5 of them on this litter. She was such a wonderful mother with them. After 2 days of being inside without using a litter box or anything. She left the kittens and went outside for 15 or 20 minutes. The next day I got home from work, and I went down to my room to check on her and the babies, and there was blood every where. She seemed to be chocking on something, so I tried everything. I tried some mineral oil, to losen what ever she was choking on, I tried the hymlic (sp?) manover on her. Nothing. So I ran upstairs to call my dad at work. I couldn't get a hold of him at all. I ran back down stairs and wated there with her for him to get home. I started crying. Then I heard my dad pull into the drive way. I ran upstairs screaming, when he walked in I had 'Momma' in my arms and I was ready to take her to the vet. I got in the car, and we went to the vets.

After we got her checked in, 15 minutes later they came out and told us they had to talk to us in another room. So I walk in to the room ready and waiting to see my beautiful girl. They told me they lost her. I turned and looked at my dad and then back at the vet. Then with alot of anger in my voice. I said "Well I guess you need to start looking for her, you job is to fix my cat and not lose her. My dad had to explain to me that she died. All I could say was no she didn't they lost her. I was thinking she was lose some where in the vets office. They told us that she got into rat poison. And that it takes about 3 to 4 days to show the signs, and then another day to take the animals life.

We needed to get advice on how to take care of 5 three day old kittens. They told us what to look for, and how to bottle feed the. We ended up losing 3 of the kittens. The last one we lost, we lost him when he was 5 weeks old. He was the smallest and the hardest one to get to eat. He died purring on my mothers chest.

Sterling and Hobart we both alive and well. Both had some sever nerve damage from the poision.

When I thought I had lost everything when I lost my sweet 'Momma' God sent me her son, that was the sweetest, the cutest, and most alive cat you could ever see. I remember being peed in the face by him. I remember holding him so close to me because he was scared and shaking. I remember when on of the others cats scared him so bad, he peed and pooped on him self. I remember having to clean him of that. I remember how he would walk. He always walked like he was stepping over something. His back legs were longer than his front. His ears were to big for his body. He couldn't jump higher than a foot or so. We would pick him up and put him on the kitchen table because he saw all the other cats do it. I remember one of the old cats teaching him how to use the litter box, teaching him how to be a cat. I remember waking up every 2 hours to feed him and bathe him. Most of all I remember how much love he gave to us, and how much we loved him. And how many people told us we need to put him to sleep because he was suffering. He wasn't he was happy, content, and the most precious thing you would ever see. He would cry if he didn't get his nightly bottle, even after he was 2 years old, he still needed his botter before bed time or he wouldn't be able to sleep.

He taught me so much. He taught me not to judge others that are less forinate than me. He taught me that people with disabilities, shouldn't be looked at different, and they can still do most things. He taught me that when there is a will there is a way. He was our litter fighter, he taught me more about life than any person could ever teach me.

Those two cats, taught me how to love.