Tail-Less Wonder

One day I took my goddaughter to a friend’s house that had a park behind it. She went to play on the playground with a bunch of neighborhood kids. About 30 minutes later she came running in the house crying hysterically and saying “The boys are being mean to it! Make them stop!”. She couldn’t tell me what “it” was but I gathered it was an animal of some sort. So off we went, running through the park.

As I approached the playground I could see a group of boys standing around the slide, taking turns going to the top and throwing something down. I saw it go shooting to the end, I ran over to see what it was and have never been so angry in my entire life. A tiny, TINY kitten that was maybe 2 or 3 weeks old. They were having a contest to see who could shoot it off the slide the farthest. I grabbed the baby, put it in my sweatshirt pocket and informed them that boys, that hurt animals, all turn into serial killers and I was telling their parents immediately. They were young (about 8 years old) so the tears started pretty immediately.

I ran back to the house and took the tiny little thing out of my pocket. She didn’t make a sound and just stared at me with the biggest eyes. She actually seemed fine but I obviously had to take her to get checked out. The vet said she had no injuries, was slightly underfed and just needed to be kept warm and safe. Then he said, she might be a pure bred Manx. I hadn’t even realized she didn’t have a tail because the only cat I ever had as a kid was a Manx and that was really quite normal to me. The vet thought that was hilarious.

I never even considered not keeping her. I brought her home, introduced her to a new sister cat and named her Emma. It has been 15 years now and she is just the most delicious thing that ever happened.

Rachel Ooms