I often rescue cats that are considered by the local animal shelter as "unadoptable". One day, I walked into the shelter noticed a commotion coming from under the large racks of cages in the cat room. The hissing and spitting intrigued me, so I got down on my hands and knees to investigate. Expecting to find several cats involved in a spat, I was surprised to discover that all of the noise was coming from one small female Siamese named Duchess.

Siamese cats are easily traumatized, and this one was making no bones about the fact that she was unhappy, terrified and unwilling to accept her current circumstance. I asked the woman in charge if she could tell me about this particular Siamese. She explained that the cat had been locked in a hot car with the windows up for several hours and had been convulsing when animal control finally arrived and broke the window out to retrieve her. The woman then begged me to take her, explaining that because the cat was behaving so viciously, they had no choice but to euthanize her. A few scratches later and she was safely inside my cat carrier bound for my home.

My veterinarian, Dr. Bird, was a kindhearted middle-aged man with a place in his heart for cats like this one. Knowing that it would be difficult to get the cat into the carrier a second time, I drove directly to the vet's office. I explained the situation to him as she hissed and spit from the inside of her carrier. The vet spoke to her in a warm voice as he attempted to remove her from the carrier. It was obvious that she was not going to come out peacefully, so he told me that he would take the carrier in the back room and unbolt it to remove the cat. A few minutes later he emerged with the cat, several bites on his arms and a smile on his face. He said, "I should have thought to wear the leather gloves." This vet was unfazed by his injuries and determined to help the poor cat adjust. The diagnosis was good. She had already been spayed and declawed by her previous owner. He vaccinated her and as I left he remarked that he noticed something in this cat that he'd never seen in an animal before - her eyes became blood red when she was angry.

We arrived home and I took her to the basement and released her from the carrier. She promptly hid. She had food, water and a litter box there, but still hadn't come out from hiding after a few days. I debated about how to get her to come out and decided that she should do it on her own terms. For six months she was never more than a fleeting blur. At least if I happened to see a blur go by in my peripheral vision, I knew she was still there. Suddenly one day, she walked up to me, gazed into my eyes and meowed as if to say, "O.K., so you're not so bad after all. Now what's for dinner?"

Duchess quickly fell head over heels in love with my husband. They seemed to understand each other. She would lounge in his lap, always eventually picking a fight with him. He would put his two index fingers up and they would engage in a gentle slap- boxing match. Those clawless front paws were like little brown cotton balls. He and she were the best of buddies, but Duchess was a bad sport and would always huff and puff, her eyes would turn flaming red and she would promptly end the game by stomping away in the other direction. After thinking about it for a few minutes, she would return and sit on the back of the couch behind his head. My husband would give me a knowing wink. Within a minute or so she would pop him across the top of his head with her paw several times, demanding that he sit somewhere else. Five feet of surface area, and she thought he should be the one to move to the other side of the couch. This routine continued for several years.

Duchess wasn't a mean cat, but she certainly thought she was the boss. Many times when I disciplined my son by sending him to his bedroom, she would appear out of nowhere and escort him to his room, paws flailing all the way up the staircase. She would position herself outside his bedroom door, not allowing him to come out until his time was up. She practiced a very effective form of verbal intimidation. My son would emerge from his bedroom with a giggle and ask her if he could come out. Like a good mom, she allowed him to pass.

In all the years that we had her, she never bit or harmed our children. In fact, she seemed to believe they were her children and took that responsibility very seriously.

She died of kidney failure at the age of 13. My family was devastated. My husband lost his best friend and my children lost a friend and guardian. We were so privileged to have had her in our lives. She taught my children about love and how important it is to be humane, so in the end, we were given a gift that we'll never forget.

I'll close by saying that there was never any doubt that the time Duchess spent in the hot car affected her all of her life. I believe her life was cut short by it. I believe she suffered some brain damage and mood swings throughout her life because of it. If she could pass along a message, it certainly would be to never leave animals in cars, even on warms days.