We live out in the middle of NOWHERE. Last year, during the first snow of the year, I heard the most horrible screaming coming from under my front porch. I quickly bundled up and crawled under the porch where I found Wookie cold, terrified, and huddled in the dirt. I grabbed him up, stuffed him in my jacket, and took him in the house.

I thought he was feral at first because he was so terrified around me. After I sat in the bathroom with him for a bit, I got him to come to me. To my surprise, he let me pet him and started purring. He was emaciated, his long fur was matted full of cockleburrs, he had several injuries to his head, and his little eye was sealed shut when I caught him. During my hurry to get him in the house his eye became unsealed and at least a teaspoon of gunk came out. I thought he'd lose the eye.

The next day I took him to my vet and got him started on the road to healing. The vet estimated that Wookie was about 8 weeks old. Wookie quickly settled in to life in our little farmhouse and has flourished.

We think someone had kittens in their house and the person decided to dump him in the country, where the little guy somehow miraculously found our house. It was obvious he'd been on his own for a bit and had walked through the countryside to get to us. He had to have walked a bit because of the amount of burrs in his fur. After he got over his initial terror, we found out he was completely socialized to humans and litter box trained. I really think he lived in a house when he was very small and then the person decided to dump him instead of finding him a home. I sincerely hope the person who was heartless enough to dump such a little guy out in the middle of nowhere, alone, in November, suffers a scorching case of open-sore genital herpes. I still can't believe someone would want to throw away such a great cat.

He's ours now though, and we spoil him something fierce.