About eighteen months ago, a skinny kitten began appearing on rural five-acre properties during a hot, smoky wildfire season. The hooman put out water, then food, and eventually set up a feral cat house. The cautious visitor, nicknamed Luna, stayed twenty yards away but sat in the driveway each night to watch four indoor cats enjoy cuddle time. When the hooman prepared to move an hour away, the realtor worried Luna would lose her lifeline and suggested trapping her for a vet visit and release to a managed colony.
Trapping took patience: Luna was too light to trigger the door until the sixth attempt. She panicked, then settled the moment the human sat beside the covered crate, a tiny meowment of trust. At the clinic came the plot twist: Luna was already spayed, not feral, and purred nonstop when held. No microchip, no claims, likely abandoned.
The new pawrent drove back for her, set up a secure "intro suite," and began a gentle indoor re-acclimation before meeting the resident quartet. Within two days Luna hopped into laps, delivered head-butts, and requested scritches. From driveway moon to living-room sunbeam, a furever chapter is clearly underway.
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