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On January 4, 2013, my beloved cat, Dusty, passed away. He would have been 19 on January 18. Dusty crossed the Rainbow Bridge peacefully at home. It was lonely without a kitty to cuddle.

I thought about getting another, but then thought it was too soon. Three weeks passed and while visiting a Spca a lady came in and wanted to drop a kitten off. 'We're full' said the shelter manager, 'we can't take another cat'.

As the lady was leaving, I asked her, 'where's your cat'? She said 'in the truck, I don't know what I'm going to do with her'. The lady told me she fed stray cats around her house, and managed to catch this one, which she had in her home, but her husband was allergic. I said, 'show me the cat'.

The lady showed me the cat and I said I could take it with me, through tears, and bring it to the SPCA in the town where I lived, as I was only visiting this town. I lived four hours away and thought that the SPCA would be able to take the cat there.

Long story short, the 'cat' is still with me, almost two years later, 'she' was a 'he'. The lady had called 'her' Sally Sal, I renamed 'him' Tommy Ford (Ford is the lady's surname).

Tommy is very silly, keeps me entertained, and I shutter to think where he would be now if I hadn't visited that shelter on that particular day. Tommy probably thinks his name is 'God', because I say to him "God! I love you!".

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Story submitted by Claudette from St. John's, NL.

This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!