When she arrived, she was in rough shape. A short-haired kitty, she was matted and dirty, full of fleas and flinching at the slightest touch. I thought “she” was a he for she was so young and I named her Arby.

At the neuter appointment, my vet laughed and said the neuter turned out to be a spay! I was surprised, but she had been hiding under the bed for over four months so the mistake was one to forgive. She came home and I sat her in my lap, she was still groggy. I promised her no one would hurt her, she was safe and she could just be whoever she wanted to be.

Three months later, in the middle of the night, she crept on my chest and slept. I was thrilled. I named her Promise.

She is a mere slip of a mackeral tabby- and this morning we drove over 200 miles to present her to her new caretaker, Amanda. True to her shy form, she quickly slid under the bed before Amanda could even touch her.

But Amanda, she understands. She has patience, love and kind eyes. Otherwise, I would have never left Promise with her. She assured me she would give Promise all the time she needed to feel safe once again.

I promised I would check in on them in about a week and see how it was going. I told Amanda, as I tell anyone who adopts from me that I will take her back if she doesn’t work out. My hope is that Promise understands in a few days she is once again in good hands and now has a forever home. I kept my Promise…