Gwen's story:

I discovered Gwen at a storage facility we rented. There had always been cats on the property, but one cold morning in late November 2005, there seemed to be more than usual. We had just come from breakfast at a nearby diner and I had saved a piece of sausage to take home to Misty (Beagle). I felt bad for the cats, left out in the cold, and thought they could use the treat more than Misty (who needed a diet more than she needed sausage).

Many of the cats were skittish, but they gathered around as I knelt down and began tossing bits of sausage, trying to provide a piece for each each of the 14 animals I counted. As I chastised myself for not saving more from breakfast, one hungry kitten marched up and attempted to grab the small piece that remained in my hand. In doing so, she accidentally sunk two fangs deep into my finger. The puncture wounds bled immediately and profusely.

Concerned with the potential for rabies, I sought out the owners of the facility and asked if the cats had been vaccinated. Of course, they had not. They were strays that were either dropped off or had wandered over from a nearby trailer park. I asked if it was okay to take the kitten to watch for signs of rabies. Not surprisingly, they didn't mind.

My intent was to keep the kitten for the required 10 days and then place her in a home. I resolved she'd live in a large dog crate on our enclosed back porch during her stay. That plan lasted several hours. I then decided she could stay in the kitchen, but she must remain in the crate for the 10 days. That lasted 1 night. The next morning, she had the run of the house.

I noticed she sounded congested and I wanted to be sure she was healthy before placing her in a home, so I took her to the vet. A checkup revealed a respiratory infection, ear mites, and worms. They treated her for the mites and sent me home with worm pills and medication for the respiratory infection. I learned that despite her small size (less than  4 pounds), she was at least 6 months old, as she had her adult teeth (sharp ones, I might add). The vet felt her growth was stunted by poor nutrition.

It was by way of this visit that she acquired her name. The receptionist needed something for her record and the first thing that came to mind was "Fang" (jokingly and due to the bite), but that wouldn't do. "Penguin" seemed appropriate, given her color. I admit that I had not put a lot of thought into her name at that point, as I assumed her "forever" home would choose a more meaningful name.

As we waited out the 10-day observation period, I sought a a home for the kitten. I found a woman who wanted to adopt her, but only if I had her spayed and vaccinated. I agreed to have this done as soon as she recovered from the respiratory infection. But when the first round of antibiotics didn't resolve the problem, she had to continue treatment with a stronger antibiotic.

By this time, Christmas was approaching and we had plans to go away for several days. I asked the would-be adopter if she'd look after Gwen while we were away, thinking it would be a good trial adoption. Due to a personal injury, the woman didn't want to take care of her and said she wasn't sure if she still wanted a cat at all. I found myself relieved to hear this, as I had grown attached to Gwen. I wouldn't risk letting her go to a home that may not be permanent, so I decided to keep her.

While I had previously (and unsuccessfully) attempted to avoid getting attached to the kitten, after deciding to keep her, I allowed myself to fully embrace this silky soft new member of my family. It was then that I decided the "temporary" name of Penguin wasn't becoming of such a fine young lady. Penguin had already been shortened to "Gwen" or "Gwennie" by then, but it still lacked personification. Her formal name became Penelope Gwendolyn (Pen-Gwen). But she's still called Gwen or Gwennie. And due to her crazy antics of climbing the backs of upholstered chairs and jumping from chair-back to chair-back, or using her pickers to hang upside down from the backs of the chairs, she's also called Squirrel Monkey.

She recovered from the respiratory infection with the second round of antibiotics and went on to be spayed, vaccinated, and leukemia tested (negative, thank goodness) without incident. She was a trooper through all of her medications, often squirming, but never once inclined to bite or scratch.

She loves to play, play, play. Despite having an abundance of purchased toys, her favorite thing is a cardboard box with holes cut in it for her to reach through and playfully grab at fingers - or an unsuspecting Misty as she walks by. She's exceedingly gentle and is also called "Soft Paws" for her outstanding discretion in not using her pickers.

We travel by car quite a bit, often for several days at a time. It bothered us to leave Gwen home on these trips, so we recently took her on a roadtrip from Pennsylvania to Florida. She actually seemed to enjoy herself. We place her in a carrier when we're not in the vehicle (so she can't jump out when we open the doors). The first few stops, she'd fight going into the carrier, grabbing at the door as we put her inside. But by the end of the trip, she'd scoot in herself if we even stopped at a traffic light. What a good girl!

Gwen has been nothing but a delight. She's matured into a relatively small cat, weighing about 7 pounds. She'd not particularly cuddly and prefers not to be held or pet, but she's affectionate in her own way. She enjoys sitting on my lap (it's so hard to resist the temptation to pet her, but she scoots off if I do). And she likes to be nearby: if not on my lap, then sitting on the printer while I'm on the computer or curled up next to me at night. And she considers morning bathroom duties very important, carefully overseeing tooth-brushing, hair brushing, contact lens, and other morning routines. I often have to toss a ball in the bathtub to get her out of the sink. Did I mention that she loves to play in water? She's continually a source of smiles.