Amanda says: Janice, my "miracle baby," is now 12 weeks old. I first brought her home from the shelter when she was a precocious little six-week-old baby -- one who had been living under someone's house for at least a week with no mother or siblings to be found. The reason I call her my miracle baby is because at seven weeks, her curiosity and determination led her into the toilet (a long story which I won't bother to relay here), and I came home from work to find what seemed, at first glance, to be a drowned little girl. According to various vets, my horrified screams and cries most likely brought her back from what might have been a borderline coma. When she managed to raise her soaked little head to meow and let me know she was alive, I raced her to the ER, where she spent the night in an incubator (her body temperature was 15-20 degrees below normal). I've never been more grateful in my life than when I brought my little baby Janice home after a long night, healthy and happy, and we snuggled together for hours. Since then, she has been as vibrant as can be. Janice's favorite things are almonds, figs, Fritos, funk music, and "Hardball with Chris Matthews." I'm not even making this up. She beats on her seven-year-old brother Desi, eats everything in the house, and is a neverending source of delight to me and to everyone around me.
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