Since I was a child, there has always been a part of my heart dedicated to animals. Its a part that can't possibly be filled by anything else. Growing up, there were rarely any pet-free days. When there were, my parents were dealing with endless pleas for all types of critters. In my adult life I have only permanently acquired one animal: a cat called Connor. His entire body fit in my hands, as the spindly little runt of the litter. When I met him, I was visiting my uncle's farm prior to his funeral. Connor is the only thing I have from my uncle now, and the kitten was named for him as well. He has gone through many stages of life with me, and he has become my heart and soul. I am not a diehard cat person, but this one particular cat is a permanent part of me. I am also a practicing falconer, and keep hawks six months out of the year. The individual birds will not be permanent, but the entirety of my identity will always be defined by falconry and the birds will always have a role in my life. I currently have two extra cats; both came to me with identical sicknesses a year and a half apart. Minnie was the first, a little female that has failed to grow beyond 'kitten-collar' size. She has been with me for a long time and I love her truly; however, she still needs to find that one place where she belongs. The second is a male called Kirby. He has only been here for two months, and will likely be on his way before he reaches a third. Only a week or so prior to him, I had rehomed another kitten that I had plucked out of the highway's centerline, in the middle of heavy traffic.