The Lost Cats and Lonely Hearts Club: A heartwarming, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy - not just for cat lovers!

I may as well tell you the story of how she saved my life.

Life began for me, at least the part I can confirm, in a New York City park restroom, where I was abandoned shortly after being born along with a note.

I am unable to take care of my child. Please find a good home for her.

My name comes from the two police officers who followed the sound of a crying baby and found me. Two cops whose last names were Madison and Shaw brought me to social services, where I began the journey of being shuttled between six foster homes over the next eighteen years.

Some good, some not.

A few of my foster parents were decent people who actually wanted children. Others simply wanted the financial stipend the state provided in return for taking care of me.

That I could live with. The bullying in school I could not.

Children can be cruel, and so the taunting about being “unwanted” began at an early age. By the time I was sixteen, I was bitter and angry at the world.

Until Rory came into my life.

The most popular girl in school, head cheerleader, prom queen, co-valedictorian, saw a tall redhead wearing a death stare on a daily basis who ate alone with her head down in the school cafeteria. When she heard another student taunt me about being a foster kid, she came over during lunch, slid her tray onto my table and sat across from me.

“Hi, I’m Rory.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You got a name?”

“Madison Shaw.”

“Ah. I was getting tired of referring to you as the angry redhead in my class who’s smarter than I am.”

“Doubtful. I’m a straight C student.”

“But you’re smart as hell. You’re never wrong when the teachers call on you. You come up with answers faster than I do. You figure out stuff in your head in math class before I can do it on paper.”

“Is there something you want?”

“Nope. You just look like you could use a friend. Though I could use the competition for valedictorian. I don’t wanna win because a smarter girl didn’t give her best effort.”

“Why do you care?”

“Like I said, I don’t want to win by default. Unless you think you can’t beat me.” She locked eyes with me as she threw down the gauntlet.

“I could beat you if I wanted to.”

“Prove it, Freckles. C’mon, let’s rock.”

“Why aren’t you sitting at the table with all the cool kids?”

“I am sitting at the table with the cool kids. To me, brains are the coolest thing on the planet. And I suspect there’s a decent human being behind that Great Wall of China you’ve put up.” She shot me a look that went right to my soul, one that told me she was sincere. I can’t explain it, but a wave of calm instantly washed over me.

And when the most popular girl in the school accepts you, the bullying stops. It’s like being a made man in the Mafia. I also discovered that Rory’s friends, who I assumed were the cool kids, were actually very normal as she had no tolerance for phonies. They accepted me with open arms as well.

We became inseparable, Rory taking me under her wing even though I towered over her. My grades shot up (we tied for the valedictorian thing) as she became the sister I’d never had. She set an example for me, using her popularity for good. Upon being crowned queen of the prom, she immediately took the thing off and placed it on the head of a girl in a wheelchair. She was the least pretentious person I’d ever met, when she could have easily been the queen bitch of the mean girls. A teenager with a forty year old brain, she taught me stuff about life that wasn’t in any book.

Most important, my anger and bitterness slowly dissipated, replaced by a passionate desire to succeed and be more successful than anyone else. I dreamed about future high school reunions when I could show up and brag about having the best career and a spectacular life. About being so rich I could write million dollar checks to charities. I ate dinner at her house most nights, her mother and father becoming the parents I desperately needed.

The day I turned eighteen in the middle of my senior year Rory handed me a small gift-wrapped box. “Happy birthday, Freckles.”

“Thank you. This is the only present I’ll get.”

“Well, then, I sure hope you like it.”

I tore open the box. I furrowed my brow as I saw a simple key inside. “Okay, this is one of your clever treasure hunts. I suppose I have to find the lock this fits.”

“It should be easy. The location is on the card in the box.”

I pulled it out and saw Rory’s address. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re moving in with us. I want you out of that foster home and so do my parents. This is not up for discussion. As of today, you are living with me. So after school we are going to your house, pack up everything you own and get you the hell outta there.”

I became a member of her family, the first one that felt real. Her parents treated me like their own daughter, grounded me with values I desperately needed. We shared a three bedroom housing unit in college, as our friend Tish became our other roommate.

But the qualities Rory had drawn out of me had slowly disappeared in the world of television news, a superficial industry that asks you to check your soul at the door.

And often doesn’t give it back.

Thankfully, the kittens came into my life and reminded me where I came from.

I point to the kittens as she sits next to me. “So, you want one?”

“Sure, I could use a fur baby to keep me company. You’re really gonna take care of them for a few weeks?”

“Yeah, but I’ll need help when I get back to work next week. I was wondering … since you work at home if you could pop by during the day and feed them while I’m at work?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“You have to clean them too. Y’know, encourage them to go to the bathroom. It’s not exactly pleasant.”

“Yeah, I had a friend with an orphaned kitten when I was a kid. Again, not a problem.”

“The colorful one is really sweet.”

“Oh, you mean the tortoiseshell.”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Yeah. You’ve also got a tabby, a tuxedo cat and a Russian blue.”

“That kitten is not blue, it’s gray.”