About six years ago, it was a muggy Friday before Labor Day weekend and I was sauntering from my house to our pool at Rebecca's Landing, yellow noodle in one hand and beach bag in the other, when I heard the faint meows of a kitten. As I walked toward the gate to the pool entrance, the sounds became louder and more insistent. There was a small girl sitting on the path looking toward the bushes calling to a young cat hidden amongst the brush. I asked whose cat it was and she said it had come out of an open garage across the street and followed her to the pool. She said very definitively that it was a girl cat she had named Panther. I shared that I had had a cat named Panther and my next cat named Mandy had passed away earlier in the year. Being a cat lover, I tried calling the cat and she came out but ran back into the bushes when I tried to pet her. So I continued into our pool area, put my bag on one of the chairs and got ready to cool off in the inviting aqua waters. Feeling greatly refreshed, I shook my head doglike to get the water out of my hair and proceeded to let the warmth of the sun dry me off while I relaxed in a lounge chair.

Soon enough, I heard repeated meowing again, and of course was drawn to the path, this time seeing the cat walking near enough for me to get a good look at it, but far enough away to keep my hands off it. Just then, another pool regular, our friend David, also a cat lover and owner, walked toward the pool asking about the sorrowful meowing. When I told him the back story, he turned around, went back home and retrieved a bowlful of cat food to lure our new kitty out. Sure enough, Panther came out to investigate and immediately started wolfing down the kibble as if she hadn't eaten in days, which we later found to be true.

By now, other swimmers were packing up and it was getting cooler; we all were ready to call it a day. But what to do with Panther...? Still missing our dear Mandy, I volunteered to keep her home over the long weekend. Panther obviously was used to children, but wanted to maintain her distance from them, so we devised a plan. Dave and I lined up the 5 children, who were still at the pool, single file, the last one holding the food bowl. I led the line, Pied Piper style, toward my house, while David held his hand up to stop traffic as we crossed the street. Sure enough, at the end of the line trailed Panther, still meowing, and bouncing along after us. In one quick movement, I opened the door and told all the children to come inside so that Panther would follow, which she did. To my dismay however, when I opened the door to let the children out, little Panther once again followed them. So we lined up again and this time I was able to get Panther into another room while the children filed out.

David generously gave us an unused litter box with litter and some food to start us off. My poor husband Jim, who was now happy to be a one-pet owner to our rescued beagle, Lola, tried very hard to find Panther's owner by putting notices in The Pinehills Bulletin, going door to door in our neighborhood and putting up posters in public places, all to no avail. Labor Day came and went, and I quickly discovered Panther was a boy and renamed him Felix, since he's a mostly black tuxedo cat. He adapted to our home very quickly, zooming around the house and leaping onto the armoire, sitting on my lap, fetching plastic balls, following me into the bathroom to observe my morning and evening ablutions and adopting a space under our bed when Lola, our dog, sounds the alarm that a person is at the door. Suffice it to say, Jim and I love him dearly, can't imagine our family without him and spoil him completely. In six years he has grown up from a wailing five-month-old, lost kitten to a handsome 15-pound confident house cat who endlessly entertains us and purrs us to sleep every night. Thanks to someone, somewhere in The Pinehills, we have a cherished family member.
– Janet Serman

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