Pansy is my secretive and furtive cat. One of my Hartford (CT) students found her on his roof as boys were throwing rocks at her when she was a tiny kitten. He rescued her from the roof and, thinking her leg was broken because it was so crooked, strapped half a Popsicle stick to it with an ace bandage. When Luis asked me to adopt the kitten, we left school, took her to the vet, and she was found to be disabled, not broken. She is now living in the living room (by choice) but hollers for stinky food (that I bought for Turnip) every night. In the morning, after I let the other cats out, I'll see Pansy out in the garden. She has never gone out before — not in Connecticut or Vermont. But here she is safe and feels secure. She is badly disabled with curled and crooked feet and a poor spine. I'm thrilled she is able to be out and about with the others. Now, if the sun would only shine, she could lie around and perhaps her aches and pains would lessen.