In March 2014 I adopted 12-week old Dobby from a litter of tabby Manx. All of Dobby's siblings were very bold, so many people in line to get their hands on them. But Dobby was the odd one out, the one that would hide their face instead of pose in front of the camera. Before I was even able to bring Dobby home to me he seemed to be getting ill, he wouldn't eat nor drink hardly anything, and all he would do was sleep. Scared for his life, I took him to our vet. Dobby was diagnosed with Panleukopenia, or otherwise known as Feline Distemper. The vet said that only 2 out of 10 cats would ever have a chance of surviving the Distemper, and only 1 out of 10 could make it back to full health. At that news I was devastated, but what was worse was that he wasn't supposed to have even a full 24 hours left. The vet injected Dobby with some fluids and gave us some antibiotics to bring home with us, and for the remainder of that awful day I sat in quarentine with Dobby in my bathroom. A few days later, Dobby is still breathing, but he seemed to have lost the instinct on how to eat, so I had to re-teach him. A whole month later the only thing off with him was his funny half-tail he was born with, and the ability to play fetch. My Dobby now joins our family on camping and even kayak trips, living his life to the fullest. Dobby has shown me that it is always possible to be that 1 out of 10, no matter how difficult the situation.