Dear Family I Haven’t Met Yet,

The crazy lady who picked me up didn’t even have a carrier. Can you believe that? One minute I was minding my business at Home Depot, bleeding from my foot and trying to stay alive, and the next minute — boom — I’m in the back of her car like a furry little hitchhiker.

Honestly? I didn’t even fight it. I was tired. My foot hurt, I was skinny, pale, covered in parasites, and honestly just done with street life. They said I was part of “pest patrol” at Home Depot, but I’m not sure how good I was at the job. I was way more into getting pets from shoppers than chasing anything. I’d sit out there day after day, hoping for a little food, a kind word, a second glance. Most people just walked by.

But not her.

That foster scooped me up — bleeding foot and all — and took me straight to safety. I got TLC, real meals, and medical care. My foot? Healed. My belly? Full. My fur? Glossy. My spirit? Still hopeful.

These days, I hang out in the cat room at the rescue, and it’s nice — don’t get me wrong. There are other cats to play with, cozy beds to nap in, and the humans are kind. But it’s not the same as having my own room… my own windowsill… my own person. I’m sweet as sugar, super friendly, and I do great with other cats. The rescue thinks I’m a young adult — old enough to know the value of comfort, young enough to still be playful. I’m spayed, up to date on vaccines and preventatives, and completely done with living outside.

If you’ve got room in your heart (and maybe room for one of my rescue friends too — I’ve made lots of them), I’d love to finally come home. I’m in Miami right now, but the rescue sends pets north every two weeks to approved adopters, so distance won’t stop us.

You can apply for me at sunshineanimalrescue.org. My whole life, I sat outside a store begging for scraps. Now I’m just hoping for someone who sees me, loves me, and lets me finally rest somewhere safe.

Is it you?

Warm purrs and hope,

Daisy