April 11, 2011

Another slow Monday night at work when my co-worker Jess turns to me.

“Did you know we have an isolation room?”

“No.”

“It’s right behind the x-ray room. You should go check it out.”

So, I do. What’s there? Five, teeny, tiny, squirmy, meowing kittens. Between meeting my Maine Coon boyfriend Miles the month before in Boston and these adorable little things, I officially no longer fear/hate cats. I am definitely still a dog person, but cats and I have made peace with one another. These angels are known as the Long Island 5. They were abandoned under a porch, and my clinic decided to take them in. I opened up their cage, and they came tumbling out like candy from a burst pinata. They climbed all over me, meowing. I fell in love with one in particular.

The black kitten in the bottom right of the picture, her name is Oona, named after my boss who has the same disposition, often. Oona kept climbing over me in order to dive herself into the small garbage can behind me. I kept lifting her out, but she was determined. I saw her plight and somehow just immediately bonded to her.