I just left a yard sale, turning on to another road, I witnessed a man in the back of a pickup truck, and he tossed out a black kitten that was about five to six weeks old. I was so upset, I didn't think to get their tag number. I was more concerned for the kitten, and started looking for it. They drove off, and my sister and I looked for over an hour. I went home, got some dry food and a bowl to put some water in, set it where I was hoping he would find it. I was on my way to work, so I had to leave. After work, it was, by now, dark thirty, and I said to my sister, "Let's check again." So we drove up where the kitten was tossed, and I called, "Kitty kitty kitty." I heard a faint meow. Since we only lived about three blocks from where the kitten was tossed, I told my sister to run home, and get a flashlight and a can of kitty food. I would stay behind and would continue to call and try to locate him. He was jet black, so naturally so hard to see. She was back in about ten minutes, which seemed forever, and I found the little guy. He wanted to trust me, but was somewhat fearful. He started to move out of my space, and I reached over and grabbed him. Didn't care if he bite me, scratched me, or what, I was determined to get him to my house. Once I got into the car, he settled down in my lap, and seemed to sense he was finally safe. Got him home, set him up in a room with litter box, water and can food. He had about a two inch tail, and was just a sweetheart. Now, three years later, he is huge. Not fat, just huge. He's 25 pounds of love, and he follows me around like a dog. I named him B.J. Short for Bobby Jr. I think I know who his dad was, a feral that I fed, and he was solid black with no tail, but has since passed away. So in case this was his offspring, I named him Bobby Jr.

Charlotte Bates
CANTONMENT, FL