“I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult. It’s not. Mine had me trained in two days.” — Bill Dana
It was Christmas Eve, 1982, a time when my life was in the middle of major changes. I was temporarily living in a small, quaint apartment in Utah that I would soon be leaving to accept a new job as regional editor at the Times-News in Twin Falls, Idaho.
Literally blowing in through my door on this cold, snowy night came my son, Lewis, who was on leave from the Army. He was driving down through Sardine Canyon in Northern Utah after visiting friends when he spotted a tiny kitten that had carelessly been set adrift in the snow by some heartless person.
He did what any of my children, who had been taught to love and respect all animals, would have done. He rescued the bit of cold fluff. And now, his cheeks still red with the cold, he dumped her into my lap and said, “Merry Christmas, Mom.” The kitten immediately snuggled herself deep in my heart.
I named her “Chigger,” because later that night, at about 3 a.m., she decided she wanted to play while I wanted to sleep. Since nothing is peskier than chiggers, I decided the name fit her.
She was my companion for the next 18 years.