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Like Velcro
Feb. 6th, 2008 05:00 amIt all started with my first volunteer position at a small nonprofit animal shelter. I had recently cared for a tiny kitten that had been brought to the shelter after he'd been found on somebody's lawn. Mickey, as I called him, was about one day old, and with no mother, the odds were against his survival. But I fell in love with him in less than two weeks. His death was devastating, and everyone at the shelter knew that I was longing for another kitten to foster.
One afternoon, two employees, Susan and Caroline(not their real names), found me in the cattery. They were grinning mischievously. "We have a surprise for you!" I could hear the frantic squeaking all the way back in the office. At the front desk (and on the front desk) was a tiny tabby-and-white furball. As I walked in, she launched herself at the Good Samaritan who had rescued her and clung to the front of her sweater. By then, several employees had appeared. They were all laughing. I plucked the little one off the woman's sweater with some difficulty. It was like removing Velcro. The kitten immediately latched onto my shirt. I cupped my hand over her and hurried to the kitchen to find her something to eat.
The animal technicians estimated the kitten's age at about four weeks. She was a month too young for adoption and had probably still been nursing from her mother. As I looked through the cupboards with one hand while holding the squirming kitten in the other, I discovered that the shelter had no kitten formula and no suitable soft food on hand. There were, however, a couple of jars of baby food. When I offered her strained beef in a spoon, the kitten's desperate cries stopped and she licked and gulped it greedily. When she was full, she climbed up my shirt and head-bonked me, rubbing her sticky face against mine. I heard the soft buzz of kitten purring and fell hopelessly in love. Again.
When it comes to kittens, I'm easy.
One afternoon, two employees, Susan and Caroline(not their real names), found me in the cattery. They were grinning mischievously. "We have a surprise for you!" I could hear the frantic squeaking all the way back in the office. At the front desk (and on the front desk) was a tiny tabby-and-white furball. As I walked in, she launched herself at the Good Samaritan who had rescued her and clung to the front of her sweater. By then, several employees had appeared. They were all laughing. I plucked the little one off the woman's sweater with some difficulty. It was like removing Velcro. The kitten immediately latched onto my shirt. I cupped my hand over her and hurried to the kitchen to find her something to eat.
The animal technicians estimated the kitten's age at about four weeks. She was a month too young for adoption and had probably still been nursing from her mother. As I looked through the cupboards with one hand while holding the squirming kitten in the other, I discovered that the shelter had no kitten formula and no suitable soft food on hand. There were, however, a couple of jars of baby food. When I offered her strained beef in a spoon, the kitten's desperate cries stopped and she licked and gulped it greedily. When she was full, she climbed up my shirt and head-bonked me, rubbing her sticky face against mine. I heard the soft buzz of kitten purring and fell hopelessly in love. Again.
When it comes to kittens, I'm easy.
