If you plant it, they will come. And by they, I mean the cats. I was minding my own business, weeding the flowers, when I heard a weird call. It sounded like some sort of dying bird, or perhaps a small child with a foot caught in a hole. And what should crawl out of the shrubs but this?
A tiny kitten about eight weeks old walked right up and made herself at home. She was limping and hopping with fleas, but incredibly friendly. She looks a lot like a lion, so I'm calling her Elsa, in honor of the lion on Born Free.
After finding her, I gave her not one but two flea baths. (She voiced her indignation. Loudly.) I've taken her to the vet for the standard kitten stuff. I've gotten her first set of vaccinations, had her dewormed, and prepaid for two more visits and the rest of her shots. I'll admit that at least some of that was selfish; I didn't want her passing anything on to Miss Kitty or Big Lou.
Speaking of Miss Kitty, she has allowed the interloper into her home with relatively good grace. She's more curious than upset, although there has been some hissing, especially when Elsa investigates Miss Kitty's food. Elsa is free-range when I'm at home, but at night and when I'm out, she's locked in one room. Miss Kitty, of course, still sleeps with me.
I do not need another cat. I do not want another cat. Miss Kitty really does not want another cat. I do, however, want this kitten to have a good home. She's very affectionate, and the vet says she's healthy. Her shots are paid for. My sister works with Indy Pit Crew and a low-cost spay and neuter program, so when Elsa's old enough, we can help get her spayed inexpensively.
Someone please adopt this cat. My garden is starting to get a little crowded.
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