We found the tiny kitten cowering under the janitor’s cart in Fellowship Hall at church. She was terrified and oh, so small. She went home with me while we tried to figure out what to do. I’d never had a kitten that tiny – well, I did when I was 4 but that doesn’t count, since my mom did all the work – and spent time on Google trying to figure out how old it might be and what it would need besides kitten food. And a new home, because I couldn’t keep it. Not only do I have other cats already, but I’m allergic to all of them!
The little one stayed in my half-bath off my kitchen for two days, going to work with me in a cat carrier and spending time curled up on my chest, napping and purring. She gobbled canned kitten food and used her makeshift litterbox. My giant orange cats were NOT happy about the visitor, glaring at me and hissing, refusing to eat or to let me touch them. They are litter mates who came to me together at age 4 months, and this little alien baby was a threat.
We went to the vet on Friday morning to have her checked out, partly because it was the right thing to do for the kitten and also because it would help me when it came to finding her a new home. Turns out “she” is actually “he” and only 5 weeks old, and tested negative for feline leukemia, which was a relief. The vet gave him a shot of antibiotics because of a cut on his lip, and a deworming treatment as a precaution because of his feral background.
My colleague at work found a new home for the little guy. When they came to pick him up, they were surprised to also take home the cat carrier, small cat bed, some toys, and kitten food that Chewy had delivered thirty minutes before they got there. I sobbed like a baby when he was gone, even though it was the right thing for him and for me.