I lived on the farm for ten years, my whole life, and never had a name. Sometimes I was called kitty kitty at dinner time, sometimes OJ, but I was happy when I was given the name Flynn. Quite regal I think. I was cared for by a lady who owned the country property. I had a barn to sleep in; warm and dry cat beds, food and water year-round, and somebody to watch out for me. She would pet me and spend time with me, and with the horses too, and made sure I was safe. But one day things started to change…….