Linda J Wright

I’ve always been an animal rescuer, as I imagine many animal lovers are. Butterflies with broken wings, sparrows fallen out of their nests, tarantulas upside down in the swimming pool. I “rescued” them all. But cats have always been special for me. I dragged home my first stray cat when I was five, a ginger/buff-colored guy who my father reluctantly let me “keep.” He spent nights in the basement as he was forbidden to sleep with me, which dismayed me greatly. But I outfoxed my father: I tiptoed down every night to sleep with the cat on the basement stairs. Anyhow, one night I was discovered, and the cat mysteriously disappeared.