For almost thirteen years, a gentle orange cat lived in a place where love didn’t exist.
Her world was a laboratory at the University of California, Davis, where she spent every day inside cold cages.
She was never called by a name, only identified by a number — #11-245, tattooed inside both of her ears. Her life was measured by experiments, records, and silence, rather than by affection or play.
A Cat’s Life Transformed After Years in a Lab
When the animal advocacy group White Coat Waste finally succeeded in shutting down the university’s kitten testing program, the cats who had survived faced an uncertain future.
They had never been part of families. They had never walked freely through a house or been given toys just for fun.
For this orange tabby, stepping out of the lab was both liberating and terrifying.
She was extremely thin, her body weak, and she turned away from food out of fear. Decades of confinement had left her unsure of what safety even meant.
But this ending to her lab years was also the beginning of something far more beautiful. A man who had helped end the program was about to give her the one thing she had been denied her entire life — a family who would never see her as just a number.
The Day Marigold Found Her Person
Anthony Bellotti, founder of White Coat Waste, had devoted himself to fighting for animals trapped in government-funded testing.
His team’s success at closing the UC Davis lab was a moment of victory, but for him, it also felt personal.
Not long before, he had lost Petite, another former lab cat he had adopted. Her absence left a quiet sadness in his home. Bellotti knew he wanted to honor her memory by opening his door again.
When he visited the rescued cats, he was struck by how each of them carried visible signs of hardship. Some were cautious, others withdrawn, all of them shaped by years of confinement. But among them was the orange tabby who seemed to look straight through him.
Despite her fear, there was a spark of recognition — a fragile connection that only grew stronger the longer he stood near her.
At that moment, Bellotti realized this was not a choice he was making.
She had already chosen him. The number that had defined her existence no longer had any meaning.
He gave her the first true gift of her life — a name. He called her Marigold, because her warm coat reminded him of the golden flower that thrives even in difficult soil.
That simple act of naming marked the start of her new identity.
She was no longer #11-245. She was Marigold, an individual with dignity, beauty, and a family ready to love her for who she truly was.
Marigold’s First Taste of Freedom
Life inside a real home was completely foreign to Marigold at first.
Simple things like hearing a refrigerator hum or stepping onto a soft rug felt strange after years of sterile surroundings. But slowly, she began to adapt. Within weeks, her body grew stronger.
She learned her name quickly and started responding with excitement when her family called her.
The food that once frightened her became her joy, and soon she developed a playful obsession with treats.
As her health improved, her personality blossomed. She discovered catnip toys, began kneading biscuits with her paws, and started exploring corners of the house with curiosity instead of fear.
For the first time in nearly thirteen years, she could rest wherever she pleased, stretch out in the sun, and feel completely safe.
Each new experience was a reminder of everything she had missed but was finally free to enjoy.
Her thirteenth birthday became a milestone not only for her, but for the family who adored her. Instead of another year of silence in a lab, she was celebrated with decorations, toys, and even a special KitNipBox filled with surprises.
Watching her play with her gifts was proof that the frightened, underweight cat from the lab had transformed into a thriving, happy companion.
Today, Marigold’s favorite activities are simple but precious — rolling in her toys, demanding snacks with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and curling up next to the people who love her.
Her days of confinement are long gone, replaced with warmth, comfort, and belonging. She will never return to the life of experiments and numbers.
Now she is a beloved family cat, finally living the way she always deserved.
Her journey is more than just the rescue of one cat. It is a reminder that compassion can heal years of suffering, that animals who once knew only fear can rediscover joy, and that every living being deserves to be loved for who they are.