Our Adoption Story - Liz, Martin and Purrdy
Living in France, 14th July, Fête National, is always an important day in the calendar. Monday, 14th July, 2014 turned out to be a very important day indeed. It started out quite normally, I was pottering about in the kitchen, my husband was in his workshop. We were planning to meet friends for lunch and then head into the centre of town for the usual fireworks in the evening.
New neighbours had moved in next door at the weekend and the day before I had heard a soft crying sound from their direction and hadn’t been sure whether it came from a baby or a young animal. Suddenly, that mewing sound was louder and closer to home. I looked up and there, on the windowsill, was a tiny bundle of black fluff with enormous green eyes. I opened the window and the kitten came in. I picked him up and he immediately began to purr very loudly. I hoped he was purring from pleasure but I think it was more likely a stress-reducing reaction. He was gorgeous and I reluctantly went to return him to our new neighbours. However, the neighbour said the kitten was not his. He had seen it in his garden the day before and that was it.
Back to the house with kitten in arms. There was no way I was going to put him outside – the road outside our house is not very busy but what cars there are often drive far too fast. My husband came in and there and then we decided that we would keep him if we couldn’t find where he came from. He was obviously hungry so we gave him some scraps of ham and chicken – not too much as we didn’t want him to have an upset stomach – and a bowl of water. He attacked all with gusto! Then we put a notice on the gate to say we had found him and appealing for his owner to get in touch. We decided we would leave the notice there for a week.
Our lives revolved around the kitten during that week. We called him “kitten” rather than give him a name in case we had to return him and in a vain attempt not to get too attached. We bought some kitten food and prepared a bed in an old basket. He loved being outside and one of us tried to be with him all the time so he didn’t go towards the road. He was so funny, chasing butterflies and insects, fighting tall grasses and leaping on leaves. He was clean from the start, quickly located the makeshift litter tray we made for him and spent much of his time indoors cleaning himself. His mother had obviously taught him well!
Day 6 arrived and we were beginning to relax when there was a knock at the door. A stranger was there and asking if we still had the kitten as he thought he knew where it came from. My face must have dropped a mile as he then asked, “do you love it? do you want to keep it?”. I replied we did but if the owner was missing him, then he must be returned. The caller replied that he would see what his friend, the possible owner, said. He returned within the hour and said the kitten was ours to keep. The owner’s daughter had wanted to keep the whole litter but was happy that the runaway had found a home.
We were ecstatic – that little bundle of fluff had found his way into our hearts that past week –now we could give him a name. Purrdy came immediately to mind and so that’s what he became.
That afternoon we made an appointment so that the vet could check him out, but Purrdy and the vet is another story!
In the past eight years, Purrdy has made us laugh, given us some anxious moments, and lots of joy but not, for one moment, any regrets.
