16 years ago, I started a new job as a casino regulator for Tribal Gaming. I had a bunch of Hot rods and spent my weekends wrenching on old trucks and muscle cars out in my garage. I had built this gigantic, beautiful work bench out in my garage, but I need some steal plate for the top of it. I had built the work bench 6 months before I started my job as a Casino Regulator and finally got to the point where I needed to finish it so I could use it to redo the heads on an old Chrysler 360 motor sitting on floor. I had a buyer for that motor and I could use the money for my 1969 hot rod short bed chevy truck. It had a brand new Hendrix Motors Nascar team built Stroker Motor in it. We named That Truck , The Sultan. It was very loud and very fast.

I was talking to my new Boss who is Tulalip Indian about needing large sheet of steel for my work bench on my lunch break. He said, you know my Grand Father was welder his whole life and did a ton of side work. He passed a few years ago. I haven’t been out to his old place in the sticks in a long while. He may have a sheet of steel laying out there you can cut and put on the top of that work bench for ya. Let’s go have a look after work. If we find what you need, you can just have it. I said that would be great.

So, after work we went out to his old Grandfathers place out in the sticks. As we rolled up a bunch of people ran out the back door. He said damn squatters. I heard they been breaking in to sleep there. We walked over to the shop and there was a 1/4 inch steel plate sitting there. When I got it home it was cut exactly to the speck of my work bench that I built 6 months prior to ever getting that job as a casino regulator. Exact cut. Sure, as Shinola.

I loaded it up. He said let’s go in the house and see it. I haven’t been in it for a couple years. The house has been for sale but there is a big stink about who gets what and a fight with attorneys. So it’s just been sitting here for 2-3 years until all that gets sorted out.

We went inside the house and it was just tore up. He got really sad. Some of the drug addict squatters tore off all the sheet rock to get the copper wire and piping so they could recycle it. The whole place was a mess. Sheet rock and insulation all over the floors. Place smelled like urine really bad as well.

He stood there almost in tears. I just was quiet and didn’t know what to say. This was my first week on the job and I didn’t really know him. I just told him I’m sorry dude. He started bitchin about his family fighting caused all this and how he grew up riding dirt bikes up here. Had lots of wonderful memories. After he got done cussing. He said let’s go. I said OK man. Sorry, this all happened to your grandfather’s place.

As we were walking out, I hear a faint squeek. I stopped in my tracks. I said did you hear that squeek? He said it’s probably the floor squeeking dude. Let’s go. I stood there and didn’t move. He said let’s go dude I got shit to do seeing this place like this makes me super depressed. I didn’t move.

I heard it again. I ran over to where I thought I heard it. He said what the hell are ya doing man. I said shush! In my head I thought did you just tell your new boss shush? Then he said the same thing. And I said shush again. Then I heard the tiny squeak again. It was right below me. So, I started digging through the sheet rock and peed covered insulation. He says, oh shit I hired a lunatic and starts laughing.

I moved a pile of sheet rock and insulation about 2 feet deep. Under the very last piece of insulation, I found 6 tiny little kittens. I mean tiny. I squated down poked at them with my finger, and they were all dead. I stood up and said Shit! Then one of them, not old enough to open its eyes yet. Squeeked. I squatted back down and picked him up and took him over to my boss.

He said, how the hell did you hear that tiny little kitten? Its smaller than a dollar bill, under 2 feet of sheet rock and insulation. How did you hear him? I said I don’t know. But I heard him. I said you want him? He said awwe man, he is probably going to die anyway. All his brothers and sisters are dead. He is maybe, maybe 10 days old. You dug him out of all that shit. You keep him.

So I put him in my shirt pocket, and we went out to my truck, and I had just bought a bottle of Tylenol and I took the cotton out and made a little bed for him in my shirt pocket and he rested in there just fine. I drove straight to the Vets and they gave me some feeder bottles and told me I’d have to be Momma Kitty and use a wet rag to wipe his little but so he would know to poop and give him a little sponge bath. They said you ain’t going to get much sleep and probably isn’t going to make it. He is too small. He needs a real Momma Kitty. I said, oh he will make it. He will make it all right! You can bet on that! I will be the best Momma Kitty ever! All the others died, but he didn’t and he was strong enough to cry out loud enough to get my attention. Vet said your going to have to set an alarm and give him a bath, couple times a day, and feed him every couple hours. I said no problem. He picked me so I will take care of him.

When I got home, my wife at the time made a little place for him in a shoe box. I put him on my night stand. Set an alarm and woke up every two hours, bottle fed him, wiped his but with a wet wash rag, so he would go poop. I took him to work with me and kept him in my desk drawer. Making sure he ate, pooped and I gave him a wet bath with a sponge in the bathroom at work. Much to the laughs of my boss and all my new co-workers.

He grew up big and strong. After 6 weeks my then wife said, what are you going to name him? Mr. Momma kitty! I laughed and said I been called a lot of things in this life, but Mr. Momma kitty is a first! I said I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it. I’m just glad I heard him, found him and pulled free from dyeing there. He is doing Great! Getting Big and Strong.

She said, you should name him lucky. I said Lucky? She said you found on the first week at your new job as a Casino Regulator. He is lucky you found him, and he didn’t die and it’s fitting with your new job. I said Lucky the Cat? I like it. Lucky the Cat it is! I said its purrrrrrfect! and we laughed. * note: I just remembered I found Lucky the cat on a Friday the 13th and today is Friday the 13th.

She said you built that work bench 6 months ago and waited to put that steal top on there until after you started your new job. God knew that tiny kitten would be crying for his life with all his brothers and sisters dead, covered in darkness by insulation and sheet rock He would need you to be there in 6 months for that little, tiny soul crying out in the darkness. God heard his prayers.

I smiled and said WHooooaa that is awesome! She smiled and said, now can I drive The Sultan again to get milk for Lucky the Cat and kissed me on the cheek. I said Hell No woman! I may be a Mr. Momma Kitty but nobody drives The Sultan but me. ha ha ha.

Lucky was kind of a wild ass cat. He was ornery and tuff as nails. He was different than most any other cat I ever knew. All the other cats would not mess with him. He didn’t put up with no bull shit. He always liked me, but he sure didn’t like many other people. Probably because he had to fight so hard to live. I want you to know, Lucky the cat, out lived all the other cats in the house and all the cats in the entire neighborhood. He lived a very very loooong happy life. Longer than most cats ever live.

I drove out there the other day on the Tulalip rez going do something. I hadn’t been out in that area of the rez in many years. Right where I found Lucky the Cat all them years ago is now a store called Priest Point.

This is dedicated to my good friend the Hopi Cat who has told me many a good story.