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My little bengal, Leah, was found dead in my neighbor's garden my junior year of high school.

Five days later, I was eating lunch at school in the outdoor picnic area when I heard a bunch of freshmen boys yelling, "Get it, get it!"

As I looked up, I saw out of the corner of my eye a little dash of grey booking it across the courtyard. I figured it was a squirrel and went back to eating. Not 10 minutes later, I heard the boys yelling yet again, "Get it, get it!" It wasn't until then I realized it was a kitten.

Before I could get up to intervene, I heard the distinctive sound of a pissed off cat, intermingled with pained human screaming and abundant profanity. One of the boys had three elongated marks and blood flowing down his leg. I had to bite my lip to not laugh; this kid just got his butt handed to him by a four-pound, 10-week-old kitten.

She had no tags, no chip, and was hungry enough to beg for a complete stranger's chicken. I wanted her. I even had a name picked out, but my mother would never have it. I tried (sorta - not really) to find her a home with one of my classmates, but his parents wouldn't have her, either.

So, being the rational, responsible teenager I was, I dragged a litterbox into my closet, hid her, and named her Kaida, Japanese for "little dragon". She went undiscovered for a full week, following me around the house while mom was at work. Though she was eventually discovered (I know, "duh"), my little dragon has been with me ever since.

(Afternote: I read somewhere that "Kaida" is actually a baseball term for a good hit. Either way, I think it's fitting.)

Story submitted by Alyssa from Clemmons, North Carolina.

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