Posted: Oct 11, 08 8:08pm
On January 30th of this year I was driving home from work on a road I don’t ordinarily drive. It was a freezing cold Minnesota Wednesday, getting to be below zero, plus a northwest wind. I saw what looked like a sack in the road, and getting closer could see it was a road-kill kitty. "Poor dead kitty..." I thought, as I drove by.
.........and then the cat's head moved.
I turned around. As I approached the cat, who was now in the opposite lane, another car was approaching, fast. I cringed.
The car slowed down and missed the cat, huddled up in ball on the highway. I dashed out, picked up the cat (that now I could see was only a half grown kitten), and got back in the car. I was guided by the Spirit of my dad -- Ole, the Patron Saint of Felines. "Go to that farm over there, ask them if it's their kitty" a voice beckoned me. Nobody came to the door at the farm house. By now the kitten was warming up, purring, rubbing my face with her face. She was bleeding a little, but didn't seem have any external injuries.
So I took her home, thinking she probably had been hit by a car and had internal injuries. I could provide for her a warm and comfortable place to die.
Once I had her at home, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she was hungry. She ate like a horse. She didn’t die – she got fat. Now she lives in my farm house.
The first picture is Lucky a couple days after I found her. The second pictures is how Lucky looks now – fat.
And that’s how Lucky got her name.
The End.
