Eighteen.

Meet Oliver! My beautiful orange kitty.



This is Oliver's story:

One day we were walking out of the grocery story, and this pitiful kittens meow filled our ears. We turned and saw a manager of the store holding this tiny kitten, with a bent ear, flea-infested, and the bottom of his feet all bloody. Our hearts instantly melted, so Nikki turned to me and said "Can we keep him?". I hesitated, and ultimately decided on no, we couldn't possibly take in a cat when we could barely afford to feed ourselves at this time, and he looked sick, like he was going to die. She sighed and said okay. On our walk home, neither of us could really get the kitten off our minds. He was so tiny, so hungry, and we wondered who would take him in while in such poor condition. We opened the door to the apartment, set our bags of groceries down, and once again, Nikki looked at me. "Can we please keep him." I was worried he would die, and I knew as soon as I laid eyes on him I would be attached, and I was nervous. She assured me he'd be fine, assured me he wouldn't die, and I caved. Nikki ran as fast as she could to the store, and came back 45 minutes later with a very large bag of cat food, baby shampoo, kitty litter, and this tiny, flea infested, crying kitten. He was an orphan. His Mother gone, all alone in this world, and he had orange fur. So naturally, we called him "Oliver", from the musical. I'm happy to say that, although he may be a little skittish, he's turned out just fine. No longer flea-infested, but his bent ear is a scar that tells his story. He's our little/big fighter. :-)