We found you alone in an empty yard, after a huge rainstorm that probably separated you from your family. You were so tiny and scared, much too young to be away from your momma, so my Good Dog family hoped for her return. When that didn’t happen, we knew what to do. It was clear you needed help and attention, and a family to love you, so we brought you here. I’m writing this letter to let you know that everything is going to be OK.
I remember being lost. I saw that familiar panic in your eyes when we first met. Maybe that’s why I felt the need to care for you, or why we became friends so quickly. My heart wanted to communicate that your world will soon change for the better.
When you first came to us, you were shaking with fear. Your tiny body couldn’t support your oversized kitten head, so your face would end up in your water or food bowl. We fixed that. We taught you how to eat and drink, and Pinky the Dog assumed the role of momma cat. I let you sleep in my bed on the lobby desk, for which you should be forever grateful. I do not share that bed willingly.
The Good Dog people, who are my whole life, petted and loved you whenever they’d visit — especially the little humans. I made a concerted effort to quash my jealousy of your human attention. Eventually you became more and more confident, even a bit of a tough guy. I was amazed when you pretty much potty-trained yourself, and you grew into an expert playmate for dogs and cats. I couldn’t ask for a nicer kitty friend.
Now it’s time for you to find a forever home. This is the best part of your upcoming adventure, because you’ll gain new siblings and a family that loves and cares for you all day, every day. You’ll have your very own home for sleeping, romping and playing, and an extended family to spoil you rotten. To go from being a lost and lonely orphan to the newest member of a loving family, that is life’s greatest gift. I wish you all these things and more, as long as you promise to come back and visit me — just every once in awhile, if you’re not too busy. And bring treats if you can. The good ones that taste like bacon. If it’s not too much trouble.
Dear friends, Murph is about 8-9 weeks old, male, and great with dogs, cats, kids and grown-ups. He will have his first round of shots and is already potty trained. Feel free to contact management at 317.255.2525 or firstname.lastname@example.org if you’d like to meet him!