Gypsy was a tiny, flea ridden, sorry sight when I first spotted him in a playpen at a pet store. He was the one remaining kitten from an "unexpected" litter. It seemed no one wanted the white and gray kitten, but I could tell at a glance, he was just the kind of little character I liked. He looked mischievous, curious and intelligent. How could other animal lovers not have seen all these qualities in him?

I took him home with me and within two weeks Gypsy made it clear to our Alaskan malamute and English springer spaniel that he was in charge. He quickly taught me that dry cat food was beneath him and only certain types of canned food would fulfill his dining requirements. Snubbing the beautiful wicker basket which was lined with a pillow and blue and pink plaid baby blanket, he chose to nap on the queen-sized bed in our guest room. His favorite spot was in the center of the sun-splashed, down-filled comforter.

I could only pet Gypsy on his terms. He definitely had an attitude and a time schedule. No petting before 4:00 P.M. Between 8:00 P.M. and 10:00 P.M. he had better be petted, or loud, demanding "meows" would fill the entire house. Absolutely no baths at any time, and combing or brushing sessions were to last no longer than 2 minutes - tops. His routines went like clockwork and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the station he held at our home.

Then his schedule was thrown off. I'd been diagnosed with cancer. Doctor appointments, two surgeries and chemotherapy treatments kept me away from him much of the time and caused chaos with his schedule. It took several months before things became normal at home and my healing process began.

Gypsy seemed to size up the situation and put a plan into action. I'd lie on the couch or in bed and Gypsy would jump up on me, landing light-as-a-feather on my chest. He'd curl up, purring like his body had the engine of a Harley Davidson. The warmth and vibrations from this rascally friend was more comforting than any medical therapy could possibly provide.

As I healed, Gypsy's visits became less frequent and slowly he retreated back to his bed in the guest room and his regular routine. He seemed to sense that things were slowly getting back to normal.

As much as I appreciated all the doctors and medical community have done for me, I have a special place in my heart for my little in-house healer. I will never understand how Gypsy had the wisdom to know all was not well with me, just like I can't understand how he sensed my healing was complete. I am beginning to think, however, that it is not the sun shining through the windows that causes the warmth and light on the guestroom's bed, but that it emanates from the angel with an attitude that sleeps there.