Minx was a foundling. Specifically, she was found running through traffic on a busy street in central Dallas, when she was only about six weeks old. Fortunately, she was rescued by a devoted cat-person, who happened to be a friend of a friend of mine. I was considering getting a couple of kittens at about that time, and I wound up adopting Minx. She was very small, but incredibly feisty; when I got her home she wanted nothing to do with me, and would hiss and swipe at me if I came near. Finally, I told her I wasn't the least bit afraid of a few ounces of kitten, and I scooped her up, plunked her down in my lap, and started petting her. At first she looked stunned, as though this wasn't at all what she had been expecting, but after a few seconds she relaxed and started a great big purr. We got along just fine after that.

Shortly after I adopted Minx, I got a male kitten from the local shelter to keep her company. I named him Wendigo, and the two of them got along well, though it was always clear that Minx was giving the orders. In fact, that's true with Minx and just about anyone: she is lovely, charming, ingratiating, and dead set on having her own way.

Minx has grown up to be a very beautiful cat. She has perfect blotched-tabby markings, but the stripes which would normally be solid black are tortoiseshell. She is very affectionate to me, in a somewhat dictatorial fashion, but she does not like visitors at all and hides from them. Minx usually sleeps on my pillow, above the top of my head, and bites me if I move around too much or try to occupy more than my allotted space on the pillow.