This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Submit your own rescue story here. Your story just might be the next to be featured on our blog!
My little bengal, Leah, was found dead in my neighbor’s garden my junior year of high school.
Five days later, I was eating lunch at school in the outdoor picnic area when I heard a bunch of freshmen boys yelling, “Get it, get it!”
As I looked up, I saw out of the corner of my eye a little dash of grey booking it across the courtyard. I figured it was a squirrel and went back to eating. Not 10 minutes later, I heard the boys yelling yet again, “Get it, get it!” It wasn’t until then I realized it was a kitten.
Before I could get up to intervene, I heard the distinctive sound of a pissed off cat, intermingled with pained human screaming and abundant profanity. One of the boys had three elongated marks and blood flowing down his leg. I had to bite my lip to not laugh; this kid just got his butt handed to him by a four-pound, 10-week-old kitten.
She had no tags, no chip, and was hungry enough to beg for a complete stranger’s chicken. I wanted her. I even had a name picked out, but my mother would never have it. I tried (sorta – not really) to find her a home with one of my classmates, but his parents wouldn’t have her, either.
So, being the rational, responsible teenager I was, I dragged a litterbox into my closet, hid her, and named her Kaida, Japanese for “little dragon”. She went undiscovered for a full week, following me around the house while mom was at work. Though she was eventually discovered (I know, “duh”), my little dragon has been with me ever since.
(Afternote: I read somewhere that “Kaida” is actually a baseball term for a good hit. Either way, I think it’s fitting.)
Story submitted by Alyssa from Clemmons, North Carolina.
This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!
