I was having a very bad winter and was out with friends who were trying to cheer me up. A guy suddenly turned to me and asked, "Do you like kittens?" I told him I did and he explained to me a friend of his had gotten in way over her head rescuing a calico that was pregnant and had kittens twice... she was living in a 2 bedroom apartment with 17 cats total! So I tracked the girl down, she showed me some pictures of the kittens and I made plans that Saturday to visit her place and hopefully take one home with me. I drove to her apartment. She showed me the kittens that were available...or she tried to. Most of them were scared and wouldn't come out from behind the couch. But there was this one rowdy orange and white boy, romping around and tormenting the smaller kittens. "That's Trash Kitty, he's a good guy." He apparently had been given the name trash kitty for his affinity to knocking down the trash cans and rummaging through them. I told her I'd take him. She told me if he didn't work out I could bring him back. I told her that wasn't going to happen and I wrote her a check to cover the adoption fee, just like I would have at a shelter. Plus, she really needed the money. He curled up and slept on my lap on the way home, not wanting the carrier I brought for him, I gave him a bath, and he slept like a baby his first night in his new home. I decided to name him Calvin. It suited him. He was lovable, energetic and he loved my 15 year old cat Hobbes from the very beginning...he was just what just what we needed. A high energy ball of love that gives me lots of laughs throughout the day. I swear he is part polar bear, he's got big fluffy feet and he loves to spring up and belly flop onto my face....I'm glad he's mine.