For Sherwood Cooke Jr., owner of Royalty Auto Service in Georgia, unusual calls are nothing new. But one crisp autumn afternoon, his phone rang with a request that made him pause mid-task. A local dealership claimed they had a cat trapped inside the engine of a Mercedes-Benz.

He chuckled. After decades in the auto repair business, he had heard just about everything — or so he thought. “You sure you’re not pulling my leg?” he asked. But the voice on the other end was insistent. They’d been test-driving the car when a faint, plaintive meow cut through the hum of the engine.

Intrigued, Cooke decided to take a look for himself. As he approached the sleek silver Mercedes, he kept his ears sharp, searching for the sound they’d described. Nothing. Just the quiet tick of cooling metal. He was about to dismiss it as a false alarm when, clear and fragile, a tiny cry rose from beneath the hood.

In that instant, the situation shifted from curious to urgent. Cooke lifted the hood and scanned the engine bay, finally catching sight of a pair of wide, fearful eyes peering out from the shadows. Wedged into a narrow, dangerous gap between hoses and engine components was a tiny gray kitten, trembling but defiant. When their eyes met, she hissed — a small, sharp burst of fear.

“I’d be scared, too,” Cooke murmured.

Getting her out from above was impossible. The space was too tight, the angles too awkward. Calling for backup, Cooke’s son, Sherwood Cooke III, came running. Together, they decided to roll the car into the garage and lift it high on the hydraulic lift.

From underneath, Cooke lay on his back, shining a flashlight into the labyrinth of metal. The kitten’s cries grew louder, fueled by a mix of fear and hope. Without being able to see her, he reached an arm deep into the undercarriage, the edges of bolts and brackets scraping his forearm.

“Almost there, girl,” he whispered. “Hang on for me.”

Minutes stretched long. He worked by touch alone, gently maneuvering around wires and engine parts until his fingers brushed soft fur. She jerked away at first, but Cooke’s steady, calm presence was enough to keep her from bolting deeper. Slowly, he got a grip — one small paw at a time — until finally, the kitten was free.

Cooke cradled her against his chest. She was light as a feather, her tiny body vibrating with rapid breaths. “Look at how pretty you are,” he said softly. “A shop cat in the making.”

Back at the shop, the rescue wasn’t just celebrated by the humans. Tink, the resident dog, trotted over, tail wagging, as if welcoming a long-lost friend. Within minutes, Tink was glued to the kitten’s side, watching her every move with the protectiveness of a big sister.

It didn’t take long for the Cookes to make a decision. They would keep her. She deserved more than a lucky escape — she deserved a home. And so, the kitten was named Mercedes, a tribute to the place she’d been found.

A vet visit confirmed what Cooke had hoped: Mercedes was healthy, save for a little dehydration and a very big appetite. That night, she curled up in a blanket at the Cookes’ home, purring herself to sleep for perhaps the first time in her life.

Within a week, Mercedes had taken over the garage as though she’d always belonged there. She wove between legs, leapt onto tool benches, and napped in sunbeams that streamed through the open bay doors. The noise of air compressors, clinking tools, and revving engines didn’t faze her in the slightest. “This cat fears nothing,” Cooke shared proudly in a TikTok update.

She now splits her time between the shop — where she charms customers and keeps Tink company — and home, where she plays with the family’s other cat, Maggie May. What began as a faint cry from a dangerous hiding place has turned into a life filled with warmth, safety, and love.

For Cooke, it’s a reminder that heroes don’t always wear capes, and rescues don’t always happen on the roadside. Sometimes, they happen under the hood of a car, with grease-stained hands, a gentle voice, and a heart wide open to a creature in need.

“Mercedes isn’t just our shop cat,” Cooke says. “She’s family. And we’re the lucky ones.”