The inimitable Maggie Moo

My former co-worker Nathan found Maggie on a 95-degree day, wandering around near the woods, hungry and thirsty. She was just eight weeks old. He and his wife couldn’t keep her due to pet restrictions in their apartment community, so he was forced to take her to the humane society.

Every day he would come into work and query everyone, “Wouldn’t you like a cute little kitten?” Of course I did. I’d always wanted a cat. But my husband was allergic. So how could I?

But a few days later he came in with a mournful expression and said that he’d been told that they would have to put the kitten down after seven days if no one had adopted her.

I called Scott. His answer, “Do what you have to do.”

I ran over to Nathan’s desk and told him I’d do it. He called the humane society and found out she was indeed still there and we hopped in my car and headed to the rescue.

I love animals, but I hate going into humane societies. I just feel so helpless about all of the animals that I can’t take home with me that day. We were forced to walk past all of the dog and cat cages to the very back, where they plucked a scrawny little black and white kitten out of the pen and took us to the visiting room to get to know her.

She wasn’t what I’d expected. She was so tiny and skinny (only 1.8 lbs. I found out a few days later). But I was going to back out of it. I knew she needed me and she’d already tugged at my heart. Besides, I think Nathan would have been devastated if something had happened to her. I filled out the adoption form and arranged to pick her up three days later.

Sulky husband in tow, I made the trip back to get her and she’s been ours ever since. Our first pet together. Our queen cat. Maggie. Maggie Moo. Mooey. Mags. Maglio. She answers to all of those names. Happy one-day-late birthday, Maggie! (And thanks to my husband for his huge sacrifice of a slightly stuffy nose on some days.)