Conference misery::feline_v1

    I guess I will have to enter a reply and tell you about BLACK THUNDER
    the WONDER KITTY.
    
    I got Black Thunder when she was only 3 months old.  It was instant
    love......
    
    I immediately found out that she didn't know what a cat-box was.  It
    took three months of training to get her to use one all the time. Ok,
    about 98% of the time.
    
    She also had a *terrible* odor in her mouth.  When I took her to the
    vet for her first check-up and shots, I mentioned the bad mouth odor. 
    He seemed to think it was from the food.  I believed him.
    (dumb,dumb,dumb).  I remembered that Lightning and DejaVu were eating
    Triumph (the same as Thunder was) and had no bad breath.
    
    When we went to the vet's again, we checked inside her mouth.  There
    was *something* under her tongue.  We thought she might have been burnt
    by caustic acid or a live wire.  It looked like *dead* or damage
    tissue.
    
    When Thunder was 8 1/2 months old, she was spayed.  While she was
    *under the gun* they removed the *something* from her mouth.  The
    biopsy showed pre-cancerous cells.  When I brought her home, I was told
    that I would have to feed her with and eye dropper because her mouth
    was so sore and she wouldn't be able to eat.  Boy they don't know my
    kitty.  While I was putting food and water in the tube, Thunder just
    went over to Lightning's and Deja's food and proceeded to eat it all. 
    So much for the eye dropper.  She was already purring and wanting to
    play.
    
    Two weeks later, at the follow-up, the growth was back (as big as
    ever).  We tried all sorts of medicines and calls to Tufts University
    to no avail.  Three months later she went to Tufts (for her
    Associates).  They removed the growth by laser and cleaned out the
    surrounding area.  They also told me it could grow back *again*.  The
    chances of it being benign each time is slim.  I had already decided
    (and they agreed) that if it came back again, I wouldn't put her
    through surgery again.  
    
    I thought I would die when I first heard the word *cancer*.  I had only
    had Thunder for a short time, but it was like losing one of my 2-legged
    girls.  I don't know what I will do when that day comes. 
    
    So far as I can tell, the growth hasn't come back.  She goes for her
    yearly check-up (supposed to be 6 months but I didn't want to know) to
    see if it has come back.  That is in August.  
    
    Thunder is definitely my *MIRACLE KITTY*  because I thought for sure
    that I was going to lose her to that *DREADED DISEASE*.  That was over
    a year ago.
    
    To see her is to love her.  For about 6 months she didn't gain any
    weight (like Dukie) but now weighs in at about 9 pounds.  She didn't
    get as tall as Lightning or Deja but she definitely is the *TERROR* of
    the house.  Lightning may be Queen but Thunder is the Instigator.
    
    Some of the medicine that she was on affected her coat coloring.  It's
    funny to see a pure black kitty with russet hi-lights and 2 silver
    streaks on her belly where the fur lost it's color.  She is beautiful
    thou.
    
    Now that I have entered Black Thunder's story.  Anyone else want to add
    their baby to this file??
    
    Sandi and the Storm Troopers
    
    

    Snowball the arrow cat is doing fine.  I asked the vet last
    time I was there how she was doing, and she is getting better
    every day.  The fur is growing back, and no sign of infection.
    
    She is at home with her "family".  The vet rec'd many letters
    and donations for her bill.  I read one from a little girl, and
    it brought the tears to your eyes.  The gist " I have enclosed
    my $2 allowance to help out with Snowballs bill, etc. etc."
    There are as many *WONDER*ful people as there are the type that
    could do this to a helpless animal.  They rec'd a large amount
    of donations (don't know exact $) from all over N.E.
    
    Her making it was a *MIRACLE*.  
    
    L-

    My *MIRACLE* story:
    
    Precious was from a litter of two Korat kittens born prematurely
    and raised by an adoptive mother (an Abyssinian (sp).
    They were not expected to live, but the breeder was pleasantly
    surprised and advertised them for sale when they were old enough.
    She explained that they were premature, but I fell in love with
    this kitten.  He spent the first week sleeping on my head on the
    pillow, and the bond connected.  He was mine, no doubt about it.
    He was small, even for a Korat, and was absolutely charming in his
    ways.  He *loved* it when mom was baking, because she left the
    covers off the sugar and flour cannisters, and as soon as her back
    was turned, he would be up on the counter, digging away!
    One time, my dad got up for work, and heard a rustling in the
    cabinets in the kitchen.  Thinking the mouse was back, he grabbed
    a flashlight to use as a weapon, slowly opened the drawer, saw this
    gray patch, and went to conk it one.....you guessed it, out popped
    a little gray face, purring away because he had been *rescued*.
    My mom had accidently shut the little twerp in the drawer the night
    before while she was busy baking!  
    He also had a visit with the washing machine.  I was loading the
    washer, and it was almost full of water.  Down the stairs and up
    onto the washer, and *SPLASH* into the water.  I had to take him
    upstairs and rinse the soap off of him....You see, I used to take
    him out on a leash into the yard, and the collars & leashes were
    kept on top of the washer & dryer.  I brought home a puppy, much
    to his displeasure, who would grab his leash and take him for a
    drag around the backyard.  The breeder used to call to see  how
    he was.  At seven, he threw a bloodclot to the spine, which paralysed
    him.  No amount of treatment worked, so I had to say goodbye.
    
    But, I have many fond memories of this *MIRACLE* baby.
    
    L-

    I also have a "miracle" kitty. Chessie was found in the tall weeds
    in an empty field behind my sisters house. I went to visit her one day
    and as soon as I got out of the car I could hear a kitten crying. We
    searched the weeds but everytime we got near the sound it went quite.
    On the third day it rained, we could still hear hear her and this time
    she didn't hear us and we found her. The vet estimated she was 4 weeks
    old. She was so young she couldn't relieve herself, we had to use a
    damp cotton ball. The vet figured that is what saved her from dying of
    dehydration. She is now almost 2 years old and the terror of the other
    kittys.
    Sandy
    

    Mysinhs Live to Tell is my miracle kitty.  She was born to Kaitlin,
    one of my queens, on Thanksgiving weekend in 1988.  She and her
    litter caught the cold that their mother had, and within a few hours
    of birth, all four were very sick.  Due to their illness, they coudln't
    nurse, so Ken and I had to feed them.  We would set the alarm for
    every two hours, and take turns getting up and feeding and medicating
    them.  The three littermates succumbed to pneumonia at about 2 1/2
    weeks old, but not Livee, she was a fighter.  She started nursing
    out of a glass nurser when she was about 3 weeks old, and she soon
    learned that when I sat on the floor, she was going to be fed. 
    She would climb onto my leg, get in nursing position, and then scream
    bloody murder until I managed to get the nipple into her mouth.
     
    Things went really well until she was about 13 weeks old.  She needed
    to be vaccinated, but due to her shaky health, I was nervous about
    it.  I decided to give her a killed virus vaccine, just to be safe,
    but as luck would have it, she had a very bad reaction and became
    quite ill.  We set up a mock incubator and started working on keeping
    her alive again.  Between Cin Gerry, Dr. Rue, my husband, my cat
    sitter and myself, we managed to come up with the winning combination
    of medications, fluids, love and hope, and she pulled through. 
    She now lives with my cat sitter, and terrorizes her whole family.
    She is full of spunk, and that is probably what got her through
    all those tough times.
    
    Jo

Midnight is our miracle cat.  We lived in an apartment complex and one 
September evening while my son and I were out walking around the complex 
along came this beautiful black kitten.  My son begged me to let him keep 
him -- we were not supposed to have any animals in the complex -- but 
needless to say, we kept him and hide him in our apartment.

Because we are both Canadians, we still celebrate the Canadian holidays.
So on October 10, we were celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving.  I had cooked
a butterball turkey and left it on the counter after cutting what we needed
for dinner.  The next day, we noticed that Midnight kept going to the
bathroom and hugging the toilet.  He didn't want us near him and wouldn't
let us pick him up.  I just didn't like the way things were, so I called
into work and told them I would be at home.  Well, around 11:00 that
morning I called the vet and took Midnight in.  He examined him and was
unable to tell what could be the matter.  I left him to run some blood
tests, etc.  That night the vet still didn't know, but Midnight was getting
worse.  The next morning I called and the vet said he would be xraying him.
I told him I would be at an offsite meeting all day, but would call from
time to time. 

I called -- it wasn't good news -- all I could remember was that my son
asked that I do whatever I could and not put him to sleep.  It appears that
Midnight got ahold of the string "lifter" that butterball puts in their
packaging to help lift the turkey out of the pan and Midnight swallowed 
the whole thing because cats don't do well regurgitating.  I had limited
funds but I told the vet do whatever he had to do to save the cat, I would
find the money somehow.  

Well, he operated and found that the string had tied up his intestines
and it would remain to be seen if after the removal there was any 
permanent damage.  The vet would take Midnight home with him each night
and watch his condition -- 10 days later we picked up Midnight for a 
cost factor of $90.00!!!  Taking into consideration the prework, operation
and daily fees, I couldn't do anything but sit down and cry over his
generosity.  Unfortunately, this vet went out of business a year later.  

Midnight is now a whopping 22 lbs and about 30 inches in length and is
celebrating his 13th birthday in September.  He has been mother, father
and nursemaid for all the kittens that followed him.

/Marian (mother of 5 and grandmother of a new a puppy)

    
    	Well Sandi.  Dukie certainly is very flattered to be in such
    	good company as Thunder and he thanks you profusely.  =)
    
    	Most of you already know about my little Duke but I shall give
    	a summary for those of you who may not have read my note on him.
    
    	When Cary and I moved to Nashua a year ago I decided I wanted
    	another kitty.  But I wanted a solid white or black kitty.  So
    	one day we headed off to the store to get a newspaper and check
    	the ads.  We never did get to the store because as we were driving
    	we passed a house with a big sign out front.  "Free Kittens".  
    	A cat lovers heaven this place was.  The woman had 11 cats plus
    	about 6 kittens ranging in age from 8 weeks to 4 months.  We
    	were looking at a little cream and white and a gray and white 
    	when I peeked into the kitchen.  There he was.  My little all
    	black kitten.  I figured he was the runt of the litter as he
    	was much smaller than the other two.  We put him at about 6 weeks.
    	We found out later that he was about a month older than that.
    	Anyway, we brought him home.  Never really checking him over,
    	which is something we should have done.  He was fine for the first
    	few weeks.  Then we noticed his breath was really offensive and
    	the pads of his feet were 'decaying'.  We had made an appt. for
    	him for his first shots and stuff already so we mentioned it to
    	the vet.  He said he didn't know what it was, had never seen any-
    	thing like it and doubted there was anything we could do for him.
    	The conditions just got worse instead of better so we decided to
    	change vets.  We now go to Dr. Eric Clough in Merrimack NH and
    	love him.  By this time Duke also had scabs on his body, his
    	claws were falling out on their own and his breathing got very
    	labored.  Sounded like he had asthma.  Dr. Clough has run every
    	kind of test we could think of, we have brought Dukie in many
    	times.  The last time we brought him in was the morning after
    	the biggest scare I've ever had.  I didn't really realize how
    	much that little fuzzball meant to me until that night.  We
    	were getting ready for bed and Duke was on the bed purring away.
    	Cary and I both crawled in next to him and petted him a bit.
    	He stopped purring.  Cary had forgotten to give him his medication
    	so he picked him up to bring him downstairs.  He gave this little
    	squeak like it hurt when Cary picked him up and then he started
    	wheezing.  He calmed down a bit so Cary brought him down to give
    	him his medication.  Now Duke is a pig.  He eats anything and
    	everything when he gets the chance.  The medication was a little
    	pill and we mushed it into a kitty treat.  Dukie wouldn't eat it.
    	That's when we knew something was seriously wrong.  We then 
    	noticed blood on the counter that appeared to be coming from his
    	paws and he was gasping for air again.  I held him while Cary 
    	called the vet.  Dr. Clough wasn't available and the vet that 
    	was on call knew nothing about Duke so we waited to bring him in
    	the next morning.  Dr. Clough gave Duke a cortisone shot and told
    	us that it isn't unusual for 'parents' to put their kitties to
    	sleep when they're in as bad shape as Duke is.  We thought about
    	that for a long time.  But he seems to be holding his own.  He's
    	been with us for a year.  He's about 1 year 3 months old but is
    	no bigger than a 4 month old kitten.  He still weighs 3.5 pounds.
    	His breath is still terrible and he drools alot.  He'll gasp for
    	air every now and then and seems to be favoring one of his paws
    	as of late.  So all we can do is try and make his life, however
    	short that may be, as comfortable and full of love as possible.
    
    	He's our "little guy".  =)
    
    	JJ
    

    Many cats, many *MIRACLE* stories......
    
    I can't help it, they just seem to *know* and find me......
    My friend & I were at a gown shop to get fitted for another
    friends wedding.  As we got out of the car, we both could
    hear a kitten crying.  We thought we were imagining it, so
    we went in to get fitted.  We came back out, and it was now
    dark.  We could still hear the kitten, but the back of the shop
    was tall sea grass, and dark.  I pulled up the car, turned on the
    headlights, and we both started calling to the kitten.....You 
    guessed it, it responded to my voice and came out of the grass
    keeping against the wall of the building.  She was about 4 weeks
    old, an orange "Morris" type kitten, scrawny and hungry.  She
    had been eating dirt to survive.  We stopped off at the store,
    picked up some chicken baby food, and I arrived home with another
    surprise.  We cleaned her up, fed her, and had to rub her belly
    with a warm wet cloth so she would empty her bowels.  She had no
    fear at all, and climbed up my leg whenever I came to feed her.
    I had to give her up as we already had four cats & a dog, but
    I found her a loving home.  I hated to give her up, you get so
    attached in so little time.
    
    L-
                                                  
    

	Compared to all these wonderful stories, mine sounds kinda tame, but 
	here goes :^}

	Our *Miracle Kitty* is C.C. (Compact Cat).  In September of '89, we
	went to visit Pat Senser to take a look at her latest litter, as we
	wanted a little female.  We chose a little sweetheart that we named
	Jenny, and took her home.  While we were there, we saw one of Jenny's
	littermates, a timid, scrawny, ugly thing, with only one functional
	eye.  She stayed away from the rest of the romping, playing litter,
	and from us as well.  She had been sick off and on since birth, Pat 
	told us, and the vet didn't believe that her bad eye would ever
	become normal.  We felt badly for her, but we took our little Jenny
	home and didn't think too much more about it, at least not right
	away.  About a week later, though, we started feeling *really* bad,
	and Andy called Pat to tell her that if she had to decide that
	little cat's fate, to let us know first.  Two weeks later, Pat 
	called, and told us that they'd decided to have her put down, as
	she couldn't be sold, and Pat felt that it wouldn't be good business
	practice to keep her around.  Although we had our doubts about what
	kind of a pet this kitten might become, we arranged to take the
	following afternoon off to go pick her up.  She came home with us
	in a cardboard box, as we had even forgotten to bring the carrier.
	She was very quiet on the nearly 3-hour ride home, but when we 
	arrived, she seemed to 'recognize' her sister, and settled in
	quite happily.  It took lots of love and attention, including the
	medical kind to bring this kitty around, but to make a long story
	short, C.C. is one of the healthiest, happiest, most loving cats
	I have ever known in my life.  She rides around the house on my
	shoulders or follows me wherever I go.  She retrieves balls and
	milk rings, and generally behaves more like a dog than a cat.
	Needless to say, we've never been sorry that we went out on a
	limb for this little sweetheart.  And to us, her funny little
	face is one of the prettiest we've ever seen :^}

	Sandy

    My wonder kitty is Flea.
    
    Born in a dumpster--mother starving and did not have milk for her
    babies.  Summer school kids found the litter and shared them out
    between them.  One parent did not want the kitten in their house so I
    took it in.  Misshapen, rickety with only one good (strong) paw we took
    care of Flea and she survived.  Before she was one year old she was hit
    by a car.  Our wonder vet had to remove the hip joint as it could not
    be reconstructed.  We saw her though many illnesses which she survived
    better than we did.  
    
    Flea is, as her name suggests, small but she things she is as big as a
    house and as fierce as a lion.  Rickety and impaired as she is, she has 
    backed down nieghborhood dogs, other cats twice her size and humans of 
    all sizes.  She is the only cat that I have met that follows her own 
    agenda (the rest of our bunch follow our every move as if there  is a
    price to be won if they guess what we are doing) she loves being with
    humans but they are not necessary to her survival.  We are the icing on
    the cake--or the electric blanket in the winter.  She sleeps in caves,
    made from either a paperbag or a blanket, eats only when alone, runs
    like the wind, climbs everything from my leg to the curtains, and
    loves to play.  Five lives left and counting.
    
    Guido Tiggerini, Miss Kitty Moppet, Mr. Georgie Peakems, Flea and Me    
    
                                                                          

    
    yeah...stanley is a miracle cat--it's a miracle stella let him stay
    in *her* house...
    
    ;-)
    
    diane, stella & stanley
    

         Well, Bigfoot is also very pleased to be in the company of such
    wonderful kitties.  To recap his story, for those who don't know ...
    
         Bigfoot went into the hospital four times in 1989, each time not
    being able to keep food down, being lethargic and dehydrated and really
    looking bad.  The vets' "best guess" was pancreatitis (I looked this up
    in the new Cornell book, looking at his symptoms this was a pretty good
    guess).
    
         Then in December (Christmas Day) he got sick again.  He sat by the
    fireplace with his stomach heaving; he had an appointment for the next
    day so we kept a close eye on him (three emergency visits in one year
    is, unfortunately, very draining financially as well as emotionally)
    and brought him in that day.  X-rays and ultrasounds showed a large
    growth on his pancreas, one that had not been there two weeks ago with
    the previous set of X-rays and ultrasounds.  The next step was an
    exploratory.
    
         Without the surgery, Bigfoot would have died.  The speed at which
    this "thing" grew was incredible.  But we were worried; Bigfoot is 11
    years old, an age at which surgery isn't really recommended any more. 
    However, there was no hope at all without the surgery, so we okay'ed
    it.
    
         After the surgery, the surgeon called to inform us that she had
    found a large cyst on Bigfoot's pancreas.  She had removed the cyst,
    part of his pancreas and his spleen.  There were also little "poppy
    seed" like things scattered throughout his abdomen.  It wasn't from the
    FIP; it was from this cyst.  She described it as "nasty-looking"; when
    a surgeon describes something like that you know you're in trouble. 
    The cyst was sent to the lab for testing, but she was 95% sure it was
    cancer.
    
         That night Bigfoot had to have a transfusion as well.  Things were
    not looking good.
    
         The next morning, he was looking brighter.  And the following day
    he was able to have visitors.  He looked awful, shaved on his neck,
    arms, belly and side with these awful stitches.  And a catheter on his
    arm.  He saw me and curled up in my lab to sleep, he was so weak.  And
    we were wondering with the probable cancer whether we had done the
    right thing.
    
         A short time later, the results came back, and the cyst was
    benign!!  We couldn't believe it.  In the following days Bigfoot
    starting jumping on the tables and chair when we visited him, and
    looking at me as if to say "please take me home!".
    
         Home he went!  This was the first week of January.  He went in
    three weeks later to have his stitches removed (he didn't even need the
    Elizabethan collar, he only pulled on his stitches twice in three
    weeks!) and x-rays taken, and was given a clean bill of health.  He is
    more active and alert than he's even been, and is really happy.  We've
    gotten through four months without a vet visit (a record for him) and
    he's been more affectionate and loving than ever, as if he knows that
    we did this for him.
    
         He goes back in June along with Loki for physicals, shots, etc. 
    At that point we will be doing x-rays on both (Loki's too fat to
    examine :-( , even with the R/D diet) and praying that everything is
    okay again.
    
         What a fighter!
    
    					- Andrea

    Boy, am I glad I started this note.  I needed something to cheer me up
    and this definitely does it.   Thanks gang and keep them coming.  I bet
    we have more of them.
    
    Sandi and the Storm Troopers
    
    

That Cardigan is what she is -- my imaginary 'dust kitten' come to life -- is
a miracle in itself.

But the greater miracle is that she and I ever met at all!

Two years before I ever saw Cardigan, she was found by a roadside in Vermont
with a broken hip.  The someone who found her took her to a vet who put her
age at about 6 months.  While she was being mended, Rita Tillson's sister [I
think] fell in love with her and took her home to a house full of cats.

About a year and a half [?] later the household broke up and all of the cats
had to be found new homes.  Unfortunately, the home Cardigan found was with
a woman whose husband was abusive and Cardigan did not fare well at all.

When Rita and sister rescued Cardigan she was timid and malnourished.  Rita
was going to give her a home and had made an appointment to have her spayed 
when it became apparent that Cardigan could not stay.  The boss-cat of the
house, not to mention Rita, objected strongly to Cardigan's unshakeable
conviction that the grey parrot in residence was meant for Cardigan's supper.
So Cardigan needed yet another home.

Now, I never really wanted three cats, but was coming to the conclusion that
Maggie would never accept Milo and that Milo needed a friend when Rita posted
a plea for a home for Cardigan and I said I'd take her.

I expected a medium-hair grey cat.  I met a silky long-haired little cat in 
shades of grey with tufted ears and a cheeky little heart shaped face.  Perhaps
I will sound smug, but I find her to be the most beautiful and best tempered
cat I've ever known.

She got over her timidity within a week of living with us and is now 
embarrassingly friendly and unihibited.  She is far from malnourished, 
maintaining a comfortable roundness as well as a dainty appetite.

Of course, being a cat -- a.k.a. lying little furbag -- she occasionally tells
people that she's an abused cat for the mileage she can get out of it...

  Ann

    Stitch is our miracle kittie.  I got a frantic call from a friend
    who does work for pets and pals to come immediately down to the
    gardens down the street from me.  There by a dumpster was a litter
    of 4 kittens and no mommie in sight.  Something or someone must
    have scared her off.  So there were these 4 little guys (all boys
    it turned out - 2 all black and 2 black and whites).  We fixed up
    a box and stood vigil hoping that mom would come back - but she
    never did.  After 24 hours a friend of mine, Gail, took all 4 home
    and bottle fed them.  Stitch had been attacked, probably by a tom,
    during the night, and had a big (seemed really big to me) gash on
    his neck.  The vet "stitched" him up and then came the process of
    bottle feeding 4 kittens.  All pulled through.  Stitch came to me
    as a Christmas gift that year - He was born on October 17th.  Well,
    when we got him he had such a variety of stuff that he lived in
    and out of the vet's for a year.  There was one particular virus
    that had left scar tissue on his intestines so that he could only
    keep food in his stomach for about 15 minutes before it started
    making its way out.  We were constantly changing the litter box
    as he was constantly in it and the other two cats found this entire
    situation very offensive.  
    
    After various changes in diet, etc. etc. we
    opted for a barium exam and that's where the scar tissue and the
    problem showed up.  Along with this was coccidia (sp), worms, and
    Rodent Ulcer (which seems to have gone into total remission - there
    is hope).  But during all this time, Stitch remained so playful,
    affectionate and never let on that his little self wasn't feeling
    well - he's been the terror of the house since the day we got him.
    
    Well, he just recently went for his check-up and weighed in at a
    whopping 12 lbs 14 ozs and he's all muscle.  Scott, our vet, just
    looks at him, shakes his head and smiles and then tells him "You
    certainly are a special kittie and a tough little guy to boot".
    
    When I think back to that cold October day with those 4 babies less
    than 24 hours old I sometimes find it hard to believe that we pulled
    them through and that Stitch made it all.  He is my miracle baby
    - though the other two cats in residence don't seem to think so
    - especially today.
    
    
    Giudi

Tristan is definately a SPECIAL cat.  Our other two cats are sweet, but
Tristan is the one that can always make me smile.  He's a trouble maker
from way back, enjoying hockey with our belongings, screaming at the 
top of his little lungs when he wants something (even though he's deaf),
and sleeping underneath blankets or laundry, ensuring that he'll be
stepped on at least once a month.  He prefers to sleep on his head, let
our dog carry him around in her mouth when he was a kitten, loves to
initiate games of tag with the other cats (even if they are NOT in the
mood), and likes to try to cuddle with them, which they don't appreciate
at all.

He's a rescue, and a less likely little kitty would be hard to imagine.
He was very small, filthy grey, covered in fleas, sick with coccidiosis,
and had one of the worst cases of ear mites our vet had ever seen.  But 
when I met him he threw himself at my ankles and started purring so 
loudly I just had to pick him up.  The owners just assumed he would die.  
After all, each litter had produced a deaf, white kitten, and they had 
all died.  But we took him to the vet and several visits and medications 
later, he was healthy.  A year later we realized that somewhere along 
the way he had turned into one of the most beautiful cats we'd ever seen.

Our other two are more friendly, sit in our laps more often, and always
sleep with us.  But there's something special about Tristan which 
touches my heart in a way that has nothing to do with logic.  Perhaps 
it's a carry over from the depth of his need for us.  Perhaps it's 
because he's survived so much to get here.  But somehow I don't think
so.  I think he's just touched with magic, and I'm happy that he's mine.

Karen.