Happy week-of-Thanksgiving Caturday! This week the cats are thankful for their home (but most of the time they’re just thankful for food).

Once upon a time, Ralph lived on the street.

It was 2008 and the housing market had plummeted into a bottomless pit of despair. Homes were foreclosing like crazy, but as a recent college grad and renter I felt relatively unmoved by the situation. So long as I waitressed and paid my rent, the real estate crash wouldn’t touch my life.

Little did I know that a persistent little black cat with the rotund belly of a donkey would come wandering into my life and that she would be a product of that housing disaster.

You see, one part of the housing crisis that got little news coverage (and I’m not saying it should’ve gotten more considering the focus was on the families and children that suddenly found themselves homeless, hungry, etc.) were the stories of countless pets abandoned by their families when their homes foreclosed. Think about it. You just lost your home. Do you have money for pet food? Vet bills? Even food for yourself?

I’m not saying it’s ok, but I’m saying I understand why so many people did it. In fact, before Ralph wandered up with her frayed yellow collar and belly full of babies, I had also taken in a pregnant dog. The security guard at the teen pregnancy center across the street had been feeding her and told me a family down the street left her when they lost their home.

I named her Marley and quickly found her a forever home with my neighbor.

When Ralph came around later in the summer, that security guard gave me the same story–house gone, family destitute, pet abandoned.

My little sister was living with me at the time and was adamant that I should keep the cat. I wasn’t so sure since my rental didn’t allow pets and my mom always said wait to get a pet until you’re ready for the commitment. You see, my family treats animals like children. Unless I was ready for a child, I was not ready for Ralph.

But Ralph was ready for me and she wasn’t going to let it go. She weaseled her way into my yard, onto my back porch, into the house and eventually into my life forever because she was persistent.

We fed her chicken nuggets (my sister’s, obviously) and took off her yellow collar. If she had a home and was just visiting us during the day, they’d notice her collar fell off and put a new one on. No collar appeared.

And then we realized she wasn’t just fat… she was pregnant. Great. What am i supposed to do with a pregnant cat that’s not mine?

I found this out the hard way on a weekday afternoon when I had convinced my sister to drive down to Atlanta to audition to be a bachelorette on The Bachelor. (This was pre-Stew.) Yes. I am embarrassed.

Leaving the house decked out in our little black dresses, we found Ralph sprawled out on the driveway writhing in pain. She was in labor.

“It’s not my cat,” I thought. “She’ll be fine. Street cats have babies all the time.”

I got in the car. I put it in reverse. I looked at Ralph. I put it in reverse. I looked at Ralph. I put it in park again. This went on for a brief minute and before I knew it I was out of the car, scooping Ralph into a laundry basket and calling the nearest vet begging them not to close before 5pm.

We got Ralph to the vet. They were annoyed to stay open past close. They gave her a hormone shot to speed up the labor process and sent me on my way. I couldn’t take her home because my landlord was showing the house and pets weren’t allowed. We drove to my friends’ apartment. She had one baby in my lap. Still in my little black bachelorette dress.

“Ohhhh my Jesus,” I’m thinking.

The rest is history. We got to my friends’ place where she had three more babies. When we thought it was all over we went back home and settled in to watch TV. When I went to check on Ralph and the four babies… there were five.

I’m taking some liberties with the story here. I don’t know if Weasel really was the final surprise baby. But she was definitely the runt of the litter.

I found homes for the babies with four of my coworkers. (Stew was just a coworker then and even took one – she lives with his parents now.) I already knew I was keeping Ralph. We’d been through too much. When something gives birth in your lap, it’s pretty much over. You are connected for life.

But whenever someone showed interest in Weaz, I told them I might be keeping her while simultaneously screaming in my head, “What are you thinking??”

So that’s the story of how Ralph and Weaz went from homeless street cats to…

So this Thanksgiving when you’re thinking about all the things you’re grateful for, don’t forget about your pets. They’ve probably enriched your lives exponentially, yes, but you have no idea (especially if you rescued them) just how much you’ve improved theirs.

If you’re in the Charlotte area and in the market for a pet, check out this group’s mission to rescue dogs from high-kill shelters. Or locate your local humane society and rescue one yourself.