What a wonderful way to wake up:  look straight into the vivid, deep sapphire-blue eyes of our cat, who purrs a good morning to us as we arise from our slumber!

We have had our chocolate seal point Ragdoll cat for one year now.  She wandered into our lives a year ago today.  She has been the best possible thing that could have ever happened to our lives!

When we first found her, she was a wet, bedraggled lump of fur.  We didn't know if the cat was dead or alive: she lay on our snow-covered front porch, barely breathing and not moving.  We were scared for the kitty.  We knew we had to find a veterinarian's office as soon as possible: it seemed that this cat was clearly on her way to checking out.  She needed help fast.

Being it was Christmas Day, we knew most places would be closed.  After much searching (and praying), we finally found a 24-hour emergency animal clinic not far from where we lived.  Whereupon, we rushed the misbegotten animal to the clinic, where the doctor there examined her and began treating her.  We were surprised that she was alive, but she was half frozen and very weak.  She needed some time to recover.

He asked us if we know whom the cat belonged to.  We had no clue.  We told him we had never seen her before until just this morning, when I had opened the door to get the morning paper.  We had no idea who she lived with or how long she had lain on our porch.

All we could do at this point was wait a few days and if nobody came for the cat, the cat would then be put up for adoption once it recovered from its ordeal.

And pray, I silently added.

That is exactly what I did.  I prayed for the cat.  I started calling her Christmas because she was found on Christmas Day.  I hoped that she would recover and that she would be adopted.  

I told the veterinarian I was very interested in the cat.  I wanted to adopt her as my own.  I felt that something was missing ever since "Mittens", my black and white kitty (with the Hitler moustache), was killed when a dog decided to use her as his personal punching bag.  She never even had a chance against this ruddy-colored mastiff.

The day Mittens got mauled by the dog was probably one of the worst days of my life.  I fell into a deep depression that lasted for months.  Nothing could bring me out of it.  My husband suggested another cat, but at the time, that was the last thing I wanted.  The only cat I wanted was Mittens, but she was as good as dead.  There would be no way she would come back to life.

Eventually time went on, and my grief for Mittens lessened considerably and I returned to life as best as i could.  I thought of her on occasion, but my job, family, and church business kept me focused on the more important things in my world.

Then came Christmas morning and the half frozen little Ragdoll who would eventually end up becoming a part of my life.  We had a cat again.

It was as if God, Himself, brought her to us.  God knew how much we missed Mittens, so He brought "Christmas" to us.  Our lives haven't been the same since.

~End of part one.~