I have a weird knack for finding unusually valuable things, especially when I’m not looking for them. Several times, I’ve grabbed an interesting-looking book from a free book box only to find out later it’s worth anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars. Secondhand furniture, too, and thrift store jewelry — I have a weird talent for picking a piece I think looks cool that turns out to be some fancy antique or valuable designer piece.
Probably my favorite example, though, found ME as I was taking a walk one evening.
Small Voice: “Mew.”
Me: “Huh?”
Small Voice: *Very insistent* “Mew!”
And out from under my neighbor’s hedge crawled a half-grown kitten in rough shape. Despite looking like he lost a cage fight with a rabid bear, he came right up to me and sat on my feet, meowing. So, I brought him home.
My boyfriend and I got him washed off, got the cuts cleaned out, and gave him some canned tuna, which he promptly inhaled, purring like a lawnmower. It wasn’t until the kitten was curled up on the couch that his fur started to dry enough for us to realize he had a very unique spotted pattern that we’d never seen before. He looked like nothing so much as a tiny leopard.
The kitten clearly had belonged to someone; he was very comfortable around people, and when we got a temporary litter box set up, he jumped right into it with a visible air of relief. With a coat that distinctive, we figured it shouldn’t be too hard to find his owner. We checked the county’s lost pet website. We asked the local animal shelter. We checked the town’s Facebook page. We asked the neighbor whose hedge he had been under. We checked the local bulletin boards. And we found… nothing.
The kitten, by this point, had made himself right at home, sleeping with us at night and pouncing on our socks, and neither of us objected to the idea of keeping him, so we decided to find him a vet while we kept looking.
Vet: “Well, he definitely got into a few scrapes but nothing that shouldn’t heal up. I’ll prescribe him some antibiotics just to be sure, and since we have no way of knowing if he’s been vaccinated, we should get that scheduled if you want to keep him.”
Me: “Sounds good. Any idea what breed he is? I’ve never seen fur like that.”
Vet: “My guess is he’s a Bengal cat. Maybe a Savannah cat, but he’s not quite leggy enough. You don’t usually see spotted coats like that outside of a few specific breeds, but there’s no way to tell for sure unless you wanted to get a genetic test done. He’s a handsome little thing either way, though, and clearly friendly.”
Me: “Has anyone reported one of those missing?”
Vet: “Not that I’ve heard. I’ll ask around, but he isn’t microchipped, either, so if you found him without a collar, I’d guess he’s just a stray.”
Armed with the newfound knowledge that our little rescue was probably a Bengal cat, we kept looking, and we still found no hint of who his owner might be. After a few months, we decided he was probably ours for good and scheduled a few more vet appointments for him.
The kitten was terrified of going outside and absolutely detested other cats — unsurprising, given the state we found him in — but was a sweet, outgoing little cuddlebug when he was safely inside with us. [Boyfriend] and I were relaying the story to a few friends who were over to visit when this conversation happened.
Friend: “He’s a Bengal?! Those things are valuable. You should show him!”
Boyfriend: “He’s probably a Bengal. We don’t know for sure unless we get him tested. He couldn’t be a show cat, anyway; he has too many scars from when he was a stray, and we don’t have any paperwork for him.”
Friend: “But you could get him tested like you said and prove he’s a Bengal! Then you could show him.”
Boyfriend: “I don’t really want to. It sounds like a lot of work for something neither of us are interested in, and more importantly, being stuck at a cat show all day would stress [Kitten] out. He hates other cats.”
Friend: “But the stud fees from a show-quality Bengal would be awesome!”
Me: “Well, he’s definitely not going to be a stud cat. He’s getting neutered next week.”
Friend: “What?! You have a Bengal, and you’re neutering him?!”
Me: “Well, yeah. We’re not showing him. We’re not breeding him. He’s a pet cat, and I want him healthy and mellow. And also, did we mention he hates other cats?”
Friend: “I can’t believe you guys!”
Up to this point, the kitten had been sitting quite contently on [Boyfriend]’s lap, but at this outburst, he flattened himself into [Boyfriend]’s arms and made a VERY unhappy noise.
Friend #2: *Laughing* “See? Even the cat agrees it’s a bad idea. Drop it, man. He’s their cat; they can do what they want.”
Our friend did finally get over it when it became clear that, yeah, our cat really does just loathe every other cat in existence and that going outside turns him into a shaking, yowling ball of stress. Six years later, his original owner still hasn’t shown up, we still don’t know if he’s actually a Bengal cat, and we don’t really care. Designer breed or not, he’s our handsome furball, and he’s definitely my best find!
