Just over fourteen years ago a young cat was abandoned at my high school during a soccer game. She was found in the equipment shed the next morning. She was fed, clean, and claws clipped. An announcement was made during second hour (Junior year English - American Lit) asking for the owner to claim the kitten and take her home. No one came forward. The next announcement came asking for interested students who would like to adopt the cat to obtain parents permission first and to collect her at the end of the day.
My mother has always been allergic to cats, although we did have them when I was very young. Once the last one died before I was six we didn't have anymore. I have always been a cat lover. At lunch time with the instance of my friends that I "needed" a cat and with out ever laying eyes on this one, from a pay phone I called my mother at work telling the front office that it was emergency. I told her that this abandoned "kitten" would be sent to the humane society and put to sleep if someone didn't take her home.She gave me permission to put my name at the very bottom of the list of volunteers and if no one else could possibly take this cat, then and only then could it come home with me.
All day I waited to find out what would happen. Then at the end of the day while I was waiting for my ride in the "homework room" (the after hours waiting area for those of us unlucky enough not to drive our own cars, but not unfortunate enough to take the bus) I was called to the library (of all places) to get the cat.
It turned out that after the last bell my friends stood at strategic points outside of the school office and told all of the inquiring kids that I was already taking the cat home with me. In that way I ended up moving quickly to the top of the list.
The "kitten" that I had described on the phone ended up being a 6 month old cat. A common american short hair cat, grey striped, and very vocal. She wandered all over the library meowing at just about everything.
We put her food and litter in the laundry room. (Later her food was moved to the kitchen so she could eat with us). That night my parents had plans to go out, I was supposed to go to a church meeting, but was told that I had to stay home with the cat. She spent a good portion of the afternoon wandering around the house calling (for who I don't know - another cat, her old owners, who knows). That night I lay on the couch reading and she stretched herself across my tummy - a position she never again adopted.
After the first few days she figured out where the litter box was, stopped having accidents on the way there, and stopped sleeping on top of the dryer in the laundry room. She quickly took to sleeping on my bed at the foot or in the crook of my knees a habit she kept for the next fourteen years.