Last week, I had the pleasure of finding the cutest bundle of happiness within thorns, bushes, and of all things, a pumpkin patch.

It all started with a get together with two of my closest friends. I had arrived at my one friend's house, and the other was on her way. We joked and laughed, and just caught each other up on what was going on between the both of us. I heard a slight cooing of what sounded like a bird outside, but I ignored it. I could hear my other friend arriving outside, and as I heard her car door shut, we heard her talking.

The friend I was with joked that she was just weird and talking to the birds.

Before we knew it she burst through the doors and screamed:

"THERES A KITTEN OUTSIDE."

As a die hard animal lover, I sprinted down the stairs and we immediately began our search. It was about to rain so we wanted to get the kitten inside before it started down pouring. The little baby was understandably confused and afraid, and because of that he ran to the cover of my friend's pumpkin patch. When we finally got the babe to calm down so we could pick him up, I held him close to my chest and cooed to him telling him he was going to be safe and sound.

We brought him inside, and soon as we did so thunder clapped outside and flashes lit up the sky. I was so happy we were able to get him out of that situation in time. Thank god my friend realized he was out there, because otherwise he probably wouldn't have made it.

He kept crying for the next hour, and he would only stop when I would hold him or pet him. We thought he was four weeks old and still needed to be bottle fed, but after taking him to Pet smart we were told that he was six weeks old, and that he was indeed a cute little boy.

My parents are still on the fence about keeping him, but I have a good feeling about this. We are currently arguing about what to name him.

Who knew the most perfect gift God could ever give would have whiskers?