The holidays are not the time one wants to be alone, especially when children and grandchildren live many states away. As was my habit, I left work early one Friday afternoon in 1994, heading straight to my friend’s home in New Hampshire for the weekend. From Schenectady, NY this was a three hour trip but, not as the crow flies!  Traveling through Vermont, most of the roads are through mountains and, given the time of the year that it was, following plows as they spread their gift of salt and sand was the preferred method of forward motion.

 Three hours later, white knuckled and exhausted, I finally arrived at my destination and was greeted by the home’s inhabitants which included one very playful and vocal Black Labrador who would not be silenced.  His name was Zeke and he was barking up a storm and jumping on and off the hood of my car to the great embarrassment of his owner. Zeke was herded inside and silence reigned. Well, for the moment anyway. Once the dog was out of the picture, we heard a strange and plaintive wail coming from the engine of my car!

The hood was raised but the crying stopped! Since it was now quite dark, we found a flashlight and checked under the car, thinking perhaps an animal had gone under there, only to be trapped by that crazed Zeke. There was nothing out of the ordinary on the ground so we used the flashlight to search the engine. To our utter amazement, there was a patch of wet fur visible deep in the bowels of the motor. Since the motor was still blazing hot from the trip, trying to reach what was obviously an animal wrapped around some unknown part of the engine was hazardous at best. Heavy-duty gloves were secured and the “operation to remove” began. It turned out that the little bundle of fur had the strength of a goliath and would not release its hold on the pipe it was clinging to. The howling that was created was beyond belief, piercing the night sky in a manner that was nothing less than deafening. Perseverance prevailed and after a short time and a mighty battle, a tiny kitten was now shaking violently in the hands of my friend! 

Immediately christened “Hobo”, the first order of business was to give her a bath in order to remove the grease, salt and sand which coated her precious body. As you can imagine, this only added insult to injury and she was a handful throughout the ordeal. Once clean and fluffed dry, we offered warm milk followed by a cozy lap. She was most grateful for both and soon was fast asleep for the night.

We took her to the vet the next day and he guessed she was about two months old and knew she was completely deaf, probably from the intensity of the engine’s roar in her ears for so many hours. He guessed that she crawled into the engine originally seeking some shelter from the cold. Once I started the car, she grabbed on to something and simply never let go!  She was truly a Christmas miracle and, happily, still thrives today in her home in New Hampshire. Merry Christmas, Hobo, you sure had the ride of your life!