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I used to hate cats. So independent, and stubborn, impossible to train. Julie wanted one though and when her parents' cat had a litter she conned me into letting her keep one. We decided to call her Taffy but Julie began calling her Baby Boo, and we now just call her Boo.

A mixed breed, Boo has short white hair with brown patches, and a sleek form making her very quick and agile. We moved to our present residence because of Boo. Pets were not allowed in the apartment we were renting at the time, and so we kept her hidden at first. But did you ever try to keep a cat from looking out the windows? It wasn't long before she was not only allowed outside, but she virtually came and went as she pleased.

The landlord found out -- our neighbor ratted on us -- that we had a cat, and gave us an ultimatum. Either the cat goes or we do. I think that he was really surprised when after thinking about it for the week or two which remained until the end of the month, we gave our thirty-day notice. With nowhere else for her to go, our only other choice was the animal shelter where she would almost certainly have met her demise.

Finding an apartment where pets are allowed is not easy. This was the first time that I had to try it and it was much more difficult a task than I had anticipated. After screening the newspaper for ads not precluding pets outright, I began calling and asking "Do you allow pets?" It took about three weeks, but we at last found our present residence. And even here, we had to pay an additional security deposit to admit Boo.

About six months after we moved, Boo came outside to help me shovel snow. It was in November, on Julie's birthday in fact, and although it was snowing, it was a very pleasant day. Boo wasn't around when I finished shoveling so I left her out there on her own. This was nothing unusual, she lets us know when she wants to come back in.

She was frequently gone for days, so we didn't get too worried about her until her absence was approaching a week. After two weeks went by we started to fear the worst; after a month we had all but given up hope.

Boo was gone for over two months when Julie's sister told her to go look at a kitten at the pet store. Julie reluctantly went to the store and fell in love with a little grey Persian. We decided to name him Kahlua after a dog we had when I was growing up. Julie calls him Mr. Klouie, I call him Louis.

Well a couple more months went by, and Louis was getting bigger -- his favorite activity is eating. Nonetheless, he was still a kitten when believe it or not, Boo came home! I was at work, and Julie came home to find her on the front porch. Leaving Boo on the porch for fear of how she would react to Mr. Klouie, Julie came in and called me. I told her to put Louis in the bedroom, and let Boo in.

Poor Boo was nothing but baggy skin hanging on an otherwise bare skeleton. Where ever she had been, there obviously wasn't any food there. Julie fed Boo, and then cautiously introduced her to Mr. Klouie. As expected, she was none too happy to see that her territory had been invaded while she was off on her mysterious adventure. She did not however try to go after him. Louis on the other hand just wanted to be her friend.

Since her return, Boo has been living in the basement. She comes upstairs every day or two for a little while, but after a short visit and a hiss or two in Louis's direction, and she wants to go back down to her home in the cellar. She still goes outside sometimes, but she doesn't stay out there as long as she used to. She has also more than regained her weight.

As of this writing, Boo has been back for about five years, and she is still playing hard to get. But Louis is an exceptionally persistent Persian, and is still trying to make her like him. Sometimes I really feel sorry for the poor guy, he just doesn't know when to quit. But who knows, maybe, deep down, in her own way, she really likes him, and someday perhaps she will even pass him in the hallway without hissing at him.

But don't hold your breath.