In 2010, my brother called me and said that there was a litter of kittens that had been hanging out under my grandmother's balcony for a few days. Oh, cool. Let me go check out this pile of cuteness. I headed on over and there, under the balcony was one tiny kitten - smaller than my foot - and it just blankly stared at me with these big blue eyes. I read that you shouldn't touch babies since the mother may reject them, so we left it some water and tuna for the night. The day after, the kitten was still there, alone. It was November and the temperature was dropping. I don't think her mother was coming back.
The next day, my friend L came over and we spotted our little furry kitten pal dangerously hiding under a bunch of pieces of wood. My friend lured her out with ease: this kitten was a courageous one. We placed the kitty in a box with blankets, food and water, and hoped for the best. Her mother didn't come.
Now let me give you some context here: I never owned a non-feathered or non-scaled pet. Up until that day, my pets had all been bound to cages or aquariums. A cute furry creature on the loose? This wasn't going to blow over easy with the 'rents. But after meeting this ball of cuteness, I was determined to make it happen. The kitten just had to work its charm on my parents first [READ: me and L bawling our heads off that kitty needs a home.]
And that's how I got my first furry companion and converted my mom and dad to "cat people."
This is Pepita. She got pretty big now.