I am a self-styled witch going through an airport.  I make it to my gate and realize something is missing from my bag.  I head back to the security checkpoint, certain that it fell out when my bag was pulled off the X-ray line for additional inspection. 

Once I get there I’m redirected to a lost and found station. Upon reaching the lost and found station the staff there are talking about a tiny black kitten they found.  It’s scared, wet, trembling, and has almost been stepped on multiple times before someone finally noticed it amid the bustle and din of the airport and brought it here.  It has no collar or other signs of ownership and has been here long enough that whoever brought it to the airport has surely flown out already.  The airport staff are speculating that the kitten was intentionally abandoned. 

Moved by pity, I spin a lie on the spot about how I’ve been worried sick looking for my little lost kitten and even missed my flight staying around to look for her.  Between my show of relief at having found her and the poor terrified little thing calming down in my hands, the airport staff believe me and I walk away carrying what I am already thinking of as my newfound familiar.  

As I fuss and coo over the poor little dear, I comment that she’s certainly been Put Thru It.  Seizing on a flash of inspiration, I shorten that last thought and name her Pruitt.