I had just spent two years without cats, after moving out of my parents place and I was just about to go nuts. I decided to help out at a local shelter and maybe look around for the perfect kitten.

When I got there, I helped clean up and feed the cats. We were just about done when I found this very interesting scratching post: it came with an extra paw. When I approached it, this blue paw was waved my way, accompanied by some lovely background music. The growls and hisses finally subsided, and the paw was back drawn inside, after I minimized my movement and talked a bit to the scratching post. When I looked into the hide-out at the bottom of the scratching post, I saw the most beautiful creature to have ever crossed my path: wearing a shining blue coat, this tiny marvel stared back at me with pain, anger but most of all fear in her eyes. Her pupils were completely dilated, and every muscle in her body was tensed up.

As I talked to her, I put my hand ever so slowly at the very entrance of the box, and waited. And wouldn’t you know it, her curiosity won out. The one predictable thing about cats, that little bit of knowledge enabled me to help her overcome her fear. When I petted her ever so softly under the chin I got the most bizarre reaction: She leaned in and surrendered to the cuddles. She had been in dire need of affection for weeks, but her fear had kept her locked up in that box.

Suddenly the rest of the staff came in and they were cleaning up, so they made a lot of noise. She jumped back to the back of the box and had her paw ready. I asked them to keep it down and got some information on her. Turned out she was had been here two months but no one had ever seen her. And judging by the ribs (which I could count), she had been eating the bare minimum to then run back to her hide-out.

I decided then and there she was coming home with me, away from barking dogs and other cats, and all the other stress she clearly couldn’t handle. I didn’t have any money on me, yet I wasn’t about to let her spend another night in the shelter in that state. They had to catch her like a wild animal to put her in a carrier, as she was more than reluctant to leave her safe spot. Meanwhile, I hitched a ride home with one of the girls, to then ask my startled boyfriend for some cash, and hand him the bare essentials I got from the shelter: a litter tray, some kitty litter and some food. He of course got the hint and said:” Don’t tell me you re bringing home a cat already!”

Back at the shelter I learnt her name was “Princess”( which I would never had picked myself, but I must admit that by now I know why they gave her that name), and that she was probably a “Russian blue” of about five years old. I took her home and let her out in the bedroom, so she could explore everything in her own time. Within less than half an hour later, she was sitting on my lap, purring, like she had been part of our family for ages. She had finally come home.