Six and a half years ago, I met the timid, distrustful, emaciated stray who would become the best cat I've ever had. His name is Smuggz, and he found me at the most inopportune time.
It was June 2009 and my whole family was focused on the task of preparing our one, lush acre of land in rural Missouri for my sister's wedding. My dad spent hours crafting a pergola to shade the bride and groom during their vows, my mom planted flower gardens everywhere and, when I wasn't lending them a hand, I was mentally writing and rewriting my maid of honor toast. We were all busy playing our part - and we were hectically enjoying it.
When we weren't working on setting the stage for my sister's big day, we were sitting on one of my parents' three porches talking about the upcoming event. It was a busy, festive, humid time - and if it weren't for my sister's approaching nuptials keeping me outdoors, I don't know if I would have found Smuggz when I did.
Smuggz surveying his territory. Elizabeth Enochs