As a college student, I'm always looking for cheap (or, even better, FREE) activities to do in my spare time, so I like to go to the humane society every few weeks. While I’ve never considered myself to be on the market for a pet of my own, I do like to look at the dogs; my family recently lost a dog, and, although my parents are not actively searching for a new pet, I figure I can let them know if I find a dog we can’t pass up.

A few weeks ago, my boyfriend (Brandon) and I went to the humane society to kill some time before I had to go to class. The first thing we noticed was an extreme abundance of cats. The cat rooms were full, and there were many cages in the lobby. Although I was more interested in dogs, they were all loud and upset, so we spent most of our time in the lobby, poking our fingers into the cages.

Brandon fixated on a three-level cage filled with kittens. There was one kitten in particular who caught our attention right away. She was a small, fluffy, orange kitten, dangling by one paw from the bottom of the top level, spinning around slowly. Although I’m not sure how she ever ended up in that situation, it was clear that she didn’t know quite what to do about it. I think she tried to jump while also letting go, which resulted in her clinging to the side of the cage and getting down from there. Brandon said that she was the “interesting” one of the bunch.

As we were leaving, I noticed a flyer that advertised $15 cat adoption for a limited time. When we got out to the car, we sat for a minute or two before deciding to go back in to look at the cats again. Brandon insisted on the orange one. We took her into a separate room to sit with her. She was fairly timid and tentative in her movements. I have never seen Brandon handle an animal with such careful, kind movements, and I don’t think my heart had ever been so happy to see a person with an animal. (In his defense, he is allergic to cats.)

We deliberated for a while. I finally decided to get some information about adopting. In the end, we decided to adopt her—a little orange kitten of about eight weeks old named Jewel. The adoption came with a complication or two: She was sick with what they considered to be a cold. Her nose was a little runny, and her eyes were a bit watery. We agreed to foster her until she got well, at which point we would finalize the adoption. I considered the kitty to be an early birthday gift for Brandon.

That day, I began to realize that this cat would probably be a part of our lives for the next 15 years. At the age of 20, I was committing to something that would take up the equivalent of three-fourths of my life thus far. I could expect Jewel to be with us through many of the milestones that come with growing up. With any luck, I’ll have her until I’m 35 and well on my way to being middle-aged.

We agreed to keep Jewel at my apartment indefinitely. Brandon went to the store and bought some necessities. Although I don’t know if he’d ever admit it, I think he had fun picking everything out for her. The next day, I went to the store and bought some not-so-necessary items to spoil Jewel.

Jewel got sicker over the next few days. She would sit in the same spot for long periods of time and seemed to have very little energy to expend. She eventually stopped eating and drinking. Four days after we brought her home, we took her back to the humane society to be examined.

We took her back every few days, always worried that she was going to crash and get much worse. We had been warned that the steroid shot she had been given might give us “false hope.” Although I didn’t know what that entailed or what exactly might give us that false hope, I worried about it constantly. The verdict became more and more hopeful every time we took her back, and we were finally told that we were out of the red and should see a whole lot of improvement within the next several days. And we did.

Jewel has been with us for sixteen days now. It has only been twelve days since we were told that she was not expected to live. She is better than we have ever seen her. She now eats and drinks on her own. She recently learned to cover up her business in the litter box. She plays with the other kittens. And she loves to crawl into bed and sleep, tucked under my chin. I am beyond amazed at how much something so little could impact my life, and I can hardly grasp how much I really needed her to survive. So, by the grace of God, our little girl pulled through and delivered one of the most precious things I’ve ever had the joy of experiencing: saving a life.