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Braveheart came to my catnip-laced back yard with a younger cat, Mick, who joined my household almost immediately. Mick seemed to be a wayward pet, while Braveheart appeared to have been born a feral.

From the shape of his folded down ears, I thought he was part Scottish fold, hence the name Braveheart, or BH for short and occasionally Willy-Wally for fun. But the ears were actually a severe life-long mite infestation that I wouldn't be able to treat for two years, as he wouldn't let me touch him.

For those two years, he slept in the Florida room accessed via the always open cat door. He'd come into the house and watch TV from the floor, always watching the other cats pile on top of me as I lay on the couch. Try as I might, he'd always run if I got near him.

Then one day when he was watching me on the couch and the one cat on me got up to go somewhere, Braveheart leapt from the floor onto my chest. I was startled and worried if I budged I'd get slashed. He looked around, settled down and made himself comfortable, realizing I must not be so bad after all.

BH was with me for another 12 years, the sweetest, gentlest little soul you could ever meet. He had a rough start in life - the ear problems, kinked tail from some bad early event - so it took him some time to trust me. But once he did, he became an integral part of the family.

He finally had other cats to snuggle with, plenty of nourishment and regular vet visits for vaccinations and to keep those funny little ears clean.

Story submitted by Kitty Morrissy from Fort Wayne, Indiana.

This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!