1 of 7

Write now Article Tools

I was first introduced to cats as pets, at the age of 3, when a stray female started hanging around our yard. Feeling sorry for her, my mother started putting out food for her, as she was very much underfed. She gained weight, and soon we realized we had gained a new pet. Unbeknownst to us at the time, "Ms. Kitty", as we called her, would soon become the ancestress to many generations of cats to come.

Several generations down the road, we had a young kitten who always seemed to get herself into trouble. Because of her rust colored spots, we named her Rusty. She always had a thing for getting into tight places, and rough situations. As a kitten, she would crawl away from her mother and other kittens, and I would wind up finding her in a hole, or wedged literally between a rock an and a hard place. Many times, she got her self in life threatening situations, but she always made a narrow escape (assisted by us most times) and would live to see another day.

When she was almost a year old, my mother and I got into our car, planning on going to the store. Upon turning the ignition switch, we heard a loud "thunk" come from under the hood. My mother immediately turned off the ignition, and got out of the car. As she lifted the hood, I got out of the car myself, and started to walk around. Upon looking under the hood, my mother started screaming at me to get back into the car. I of course did not listen and ran to the front of the car, just in time to see my Rusty lying lifelessly inside the fan of the car.

My mother slammed the hood and grabbed hold of me and hugged me. Crying, we both went into the house to get my father. The commotion had stirred my neighbor, and he came running over to see what had happened. I was told to stay inside as my father and neighbor took her out of the car. She was limp, and had a lot of blood covering her small body.

Both my dad and my next door neighbor were EMT's, and they just knew she was dead. They went out back in our yard and proceeded to dig a hole. She was laid in a box by the hole they were digging. After having dug the hole, they picked up the box, and were just about to put it into it, when to their amazement, she leaped up out of the box and ran off. She scared them so badly they were both shaking afterwards, having come to the realization they had almost buried the poor thing alive.

She was missing for several days, and all of us assumed that she had run off shocked from a head injury, and had died somewhere in the woods. Three days after the accident, she appeared at my front door and startled me so badly, I went running in the house to tell my mother. Amazingly, she was just fine. She had many cuts and bruises, but no head trauma nor broken bones. Apparently, the impact of the fan had knocked her unconscious, and had kept her that way for almost an hour before she awoke. She was very fortunate to be alive. She soon became a mother, and we still have cats from her line. In fact, as I sit here typing, her great, great, great, great, great granddaughter is sitting in my lap asleep. But that's a whole other story!

Rusty eventually died of old age, but none of us were too horribly disappointed. We all knew that it was only a matter of time until she used up all nine of her lives. And use them, she certainly did.

Learn more about this author, Renee' Palmer.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Memoirs: Tales of cats with nine lives?
We want to hear your view. Write now!