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Sarah Kridler's cat, May, would greet her at the end of every day, running to the front door of the apartment when Sarah returned from classes at N.C. State University, rubbing up against her legs, meowing and begging to be petted.
Sarah thought of May as her guardian angel, always loving, never questioning.
In August, as Sarah was driving home to Charlotte, she was involved in an accident and spent 26 days in the hospital. May was in the car but vanished after a bystander opened her carrier.
At first, Sarah's family didn't tell her May was gone. They knew Sarah would heal but weren't so sure how she would get along without May.
May was white with tabby spots and a beauty mark above her lip that reminded people of Cindy Crawford's. At the animal shelter in Raleigh where Sarah volunteers, the cat was named "Cindy."
She kept reaching her paw out of the cage, tapping Sarah's head as if to say, "Don't forget. I'm right here."
Sarah adopted the sweet little cat and renamed her to reflect the month of the adoption, May 2008.
Sarah didn't like leaving May alone for the weekend. That fateful afternoon three months ago, she put May in a car carrier and drove with her toward Charlotte.
Sarah, 21, broke her left femur in the wreck, lacerated her spleen, fractured her pelvic bone in three places, and fractured four ribs and a vertebra. She was in intensive care her first five days at Wake Forest University Baptist Medical Center and now has a titanium rod in her leg.
Bad news withheld
Her parents held off telling Sarah about May for nearly a month after the accident.
As expected, Sarah was inconsolable. She calls that day the worst in her life. She was sure she would never see May again.
As Sarah recuperated in Charlotte, she received several calls from hospital employees taking surveys. So on Nov.5, when she got a call from that area code, she almost didn't answer it.
Do you have a cat named May? the caller asked.
Sarah screamed. Someone had found May and taken her to the Guilford County Animal Shelter. Her white fur was the color of red clay, her ears and nose were raw with flea bites, and she had dropped from 8 pounds to 5.
The shelter found Sarah because of an identification microchip implanted between May's shoulders.
"The microchip saved my cat's life," Sarah said. "A lot of people think their cat will never get loose, or their dog will never get lost. You never know what could happen."
Sarah is working toward a major in pre-vet zoology with a minor in animal science. She wants to become a veterinarian and work in a shelter. She wants to make sure that every adopted pet has a microchip.
If not for the microchip, May wouldn't cuddle up again tonight on top of Sarah's legs.
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