It's Friday, June 9, 2006. It's around dinnertime - 6:15. I'm sitting on my couch in the living room of my second floor apartment, using Photoshop to work on my pictures. My balcony door is open for the fresh air that comes in from the peninsula of woods behind the building, just beyond the strip of mowed lawn. Every so often I hear the outdoor loudspeaker of one or the other of the service garages on the opposite side of the narrow woods. I notice the birds are chattering like crazy, and the squirrels are cackling shrilly. I recognize those sounds. It means there's a cat in the woods. Suddenly something large is heard crashing through the underbrush - leafed branches thrashing and twigs snapping with a loud crack. Then a series of loud snorts like a horse but sharper... more intense... somehow threatening... I'm mildly curious but don't immediately look, figuring it's a deer. I also figure that the cat that circumstantial evidence indicated was in the woods was somehow involved. I even think that if the cat somehow got snuffed, it would be one less stray to frighten and kill the squirrels and bunnies I love to watch. I love cats. But not strays that prey on the creatures I also love, despite knowing that it's their nature. I've gotten callous in my feelings for them after having to rescue so many squirrels and rabbits I caught them stalking... I finish what I am doing as the sounds continue, and get up to look. Sure enough, there's the deer. A doe. Standing in combat pose - head and chest down, front legs forward, at-the-ready... It heaves and moves jerkily from one position to another, always facing the same way, pivoting... facing some central point... coming down hard with its front hooves... Another minute and it wanders off. I get my sandals on and start down the hall and stairwell, exiting the door in the back of the building, and walk across the lawn toward where I saw the commotion. I figure I'll find carnage - blood... a mangled carcass. I step into the underbrush, looking around, noticing at once how torn up the ground cover is, and all the bruised and broken foliage. There it is. A cat lying among the dry leaves, pine needles and fallen branches. Its gray fur is wet - it's all matted into dark points, the white skin showing in between. It's on its right side, lying with legs at odd angles, the front left leg raised on a thick branch. There's no blood, and the carcass looks intact, except it’s not moving. A youngster... lean... a tabby with black, white & tan striping in its gray fur... I wonder if I should just leave the body, or dispose of it. Then a long face with half-mast yellow eyes looking at me lifts on a thin neck. The head turns toward me weakly. Nothing else moves even a fraction - only the neck and head. My heart leaps and compassion infuses all the world. I take a step closer (no reflexive flinch whatsoever from the young cat), reach down and saying soothing things (like oh you poor kitty) I stroke between its ears with my thumb. The yellow ears close in comfort. All I want is to comfort this traumatized and paralyzed cat until I can get it help. I tell it I'll be back (hating to leave it alone). I tell it I'm going to get it help. For the next ten minutes I try to do just that - first knocking on a neighbor's door - she has a cat, and maybe she will take up the search for help and I can go back to my photos. No one home. I go into my apartment, look up the number of an animal clinic two blocks away and call. They'll take the cat but I'll have to assume financial responsibility. I explain the circumstances of the cat's condition and appeal to them. The receptionist checks with someone but it's the same story. She does give me the phone number of the Humane Society. I write it down, but know how far away it's located and don't hold much hope of the cat lasting that long. I call a sister-in-law who's a veterinarian for advice and maybe her help. Fortunately she's home and answers. Her clinic is now closed, she says, helpless, and can do nothing without the facilities. I know she's anguishing, but there's nothing she can do. Ok, I plan to call the Humane Society, but first I go down to the cat. There are two reasons. One... to see if I'd have to call the Humane Society - after all, the cat may already have died. And two... to comfort it again if it's still alive... to reassure it that I haven't forgotten or abandoned it... As I approach, the cat again weakly lifts its long-faced head on that thin neck, looking at me with half-lidded yellow eyes... otherwise still as the dead... I stay a minute to stroke its head and neck. The comfort it feels is welcomed and heartbreaking, considering its condition. Returning to my apartment, my phone’s ringing. I miss getting it in time, but then my cell phone rings. It’s my sister-in-law calling back to offer to pay part of the animal clinic costs if it

The Most Significant Museum Exhibits Type 64 (re-built) Year of production: 1939 Power unit: four-cylinder boxer engine Capacity: 1131 cc Output: 33 bhp (24 kW) Top speed: 140 km/h (87 mph) It was beautiful, dynamic and fast – and it quickly became Ferdinand Porsche’s great passion: Although this unique sports car built for the Berlin-Rome long-distance race bore nothing but the simple model designation “Type 64”, it is acknowledged as the “original Porsche”, the “great-grandfather” of all Porsches to follow. Within and beneath its streamlined aluminium body, Type 64 boasts the trendsetting concepts so characteristic of all Porsche sports cars following in the years to come. In terms of design and aerodynamics this unique Coupe was far ahead of its time, the symbiosis of motorsport qualities and production features creating an ideal grand touring car. On public roads Type 64 reached a top speed of no less than 130 km/h or 81 mph. Ferdinand Porsche often drove this car himself, showing his deep satisfaction by presenting the Porsche family name on the car itself. VW Beetle Year of production: 1950 Power unit: four-cylinder boxer engine Capacity: 1131 cc Output: 25 bhp (18 kW) Top speed: 105 km/h (65 mph) When Ferdinand Porsche presented his “Study for the Construction of a German People’s Car”in January 1934, this was the eighth small car built under his guidance. Creating this compact model, Porsche and the engineers at his Construction Office offered highlights such as an air-cooled four-cylinder engine mounted at the rear, a crank arm axle, torsion bar suspension, and the subdivision of the car’s structure into a floorplate and the body itself. Through its design, the Beetle combined superior streamlining with sufficient space for four persons, in the process creating the famous Beetle silhouette. Total production of the Beetle by Volkswagen AG up to the year 2003 amounted to 21.5 million units worldwide. Porsche 356 “No. 1” Roadster Year of production: 1948 Power unit: four-cylinder boxer engine Capacity: 1131 cc Output: 35 bhp (26 kW) Top speed: 135 km/h (84 mph) The first sports car to bear the name Porsche was built in spring 1948 in the small Austrian town of Gmund (Province of Carinthia). Creating this unique vehicle, Ferry Porsche for the first time lived out his idea of a truly modern sports car. The prototype Porsche Type 356 “No. 1” was ready to go on 8 June and the Carinthian State Government issued a special permit for testing on public roads. This mid-engined sports car was powered by a VW engine increased in its output to 35 bhp. Weighing 585 kg or 1,290 lb, the Porsche 356 “No. 1” achieved a top speed of 135 km/h (84 mph). In August 1948 the car clearly proved its sporting qualities in the Innsbruck City Race. Porsche 356 Coupe “Ferdinand” Year of production: 1950 Power unit: four-cylinder boxer engine Capacity: 1086 cc Output: 40 bhp (29 kW) Top speed: 140 km/h (87 mph) A new chapter in the history of Porsche started on the Thursday before Easter 1950 when the first Type 356 built in Stuttgart came out of the production hall. With all test cars by tradition receiving a name at Porsche, the model on display in the new Museum was called “Ferdinand” and was a gift for Ferdinand Porsche on his 75th birthday on 3 September 1950. The car was subsequently used as a “rolling test vehicle”. Porsche 356 America Roadster Year of production: 1953 Power unit: four-cylinder-boxer engine Capacity: 1488 cc 22 New Porsche Museum • The Most Significant Museum Exhibits Output: 70 bhp (51 kW) Top speed: 177 km/h (110 mph) A special roadster built exclusively for the North American market and significantly lighter than the other models in the 356 series produced at the same time. The car reached its ideal weight of 605 kg or 1,334 lb through its extra-light aluminium body with low door cutouts, stick-on side windows and an emergency roof. This truly spartan forerunner to the 356 Speedster was conceived specifically for motorsport. Porsche 550 A Spyder Year of production: 1956 Power unit: four-cylinder boxer engine Capacity: 1498 cc Output: 135 bhp (99 kW) Top speed: 240 km/h (149 mph) “Little Bastard” was the name that legendary US film star James Dean gave his Porsche 550 intentionally built with all the aggressive attributes required for motorsport. Just 24 years old,Dean died in his private Spyder in 1955 on his way to the race track in Salinas, California, when another driver took his right of way. Type 754 “T7” Year of production: 1959 Power unit: four-cylinder boxer engine Capacity: 1966 cc Output: 130 bhp (96 kW) Top speed: 200 km/h (124 mph) Ferdinand Alexander Porsche’s T7 styling study was a milestone on the way to the final design of the 911. Since Ferry Porsche refused to build a regular four-seater, “T7” never entered standard production. But Ferry Porsche did have the car re-built as a 2+2-seater, jump seats at the rear maintaining the typical look of