Earlier this morning when out in the garden, I heard a tiny kitten crying. Desperately yelping over and over, like they do when they are frightened or some such. I checked all our cats inside and everyone was fine. I thought it sounded like it was coming from inside the house next door, where a young family with three children is vacationing. "Maybe they picked up a little stray kitten," I thought. Later I saw them trying to get something out from under their car with a broom handle. Thinking back, I don't think they were trying to be cruel. I think they just needed to back their car out, so if there was a kitten under there, it was good of them to get it out before backing up. But at that point I was still thinking that maybe their new pet stray kitten had gotten out of the house and crawled up under the car.
But just now, hours later, I went to turn off the garden hose and I heard the same yelping begin and it was coming distinctly from our garden. In fact it was super close to me. I bent down to get nearer to the sound and sure enough in the corner of our garden behind a large blue garden pot hid a tiny pale orange kitten that was the color of Bette and Amber, and just a little smaller than Sophie was when we found her. I reached down behind the large pot to pick it up, no easy task, and I learned the true meaning of feral. This kitten is 100% curry phal.
|pale orange like Bette|
|pale orange like Amber|
He/she (who had time to ask?), bit into me and would not let go. I mean would not let go. I sat there wondering how on earth I was going to detach this biting kitten from my tender epidermal. And when it saw that it was getting nowhere with me, it just clamped down harder and began squeezing my skin, tendons, veins, and everything else underneath between it's tiny teeth. Let me just say, it really made me appreciate Sophie.
The poor angry darling is covered in ringworm but doesn't appear to be starving. We'll get him/her into George and Christina our vets tomorrow to see what's going on. And meanwhile little Mike Tyson is outside in a very large dog carrier in case the Mom and author of this super featherweight orange prize fighter comes around. George, Christina, get out your gloves...
Remember Nik's hand the night we caught Jazzy? Well that's what my hand looks like now, only the female version.
|Now Nik and I will have his and hers photos|