They were the most magical words I'd seen in the Humboldt Sun since my own byline.
It was 1999, and Sam and I had just moved to Winnemucca, Nevada. My college dreams of a career in journalism had brought us to this dusty mining town, half a continent away from our family and friends. It was lonely. We didn't fit in. We lived in a duplex that ached with disappointment, despite being painted an impossibly cheerful shade of teal.
The ad led us to a trailer park at the edge of town, where a group of children had gathered stray kittens to keep them safe from coyotes and other perils of the desert. You could say that we rescued Oedipa, a frail and tiny Siamese mix with bright blue eyes and white "socks" on her feet. The truth is, we needed her as much as she needed us.
