Awww! Someone desperately wants to join our little family!
A tiny kitten has been hanging around the house for a few days: she's very friendly and obviously used to people, but phone calls to neighbors haven't turned up her owner yet.
My landlord decided to adopt her-- he grinned like a mad thing talking to me about how much fun it would be to sit around with his daughter thinking up a name for her, and how much his daughter already loved the little scamp. Unfortunately, he didn't clear the adoption idea with his wife, who was upset to learn the kitten had been brought inside and fed canned chicken soup.
She put the kitten outside, and it waited right next to the door, ready to sneak in when I went outside to hang our tent's rain fly out on the line.
A tiny calico blur rushed past me and up the steps into my apartment, into a warm, carpeted bedroom, whereupon the blur resolved itself into a white kitten of approximately 11 weeks with an orange ear, a few orange spots on her back, a tabby ear, and a tabby tail. She growled at Plum, but once he lumbered off to visit his food dish, she became a purr machine. I'm smitten, I am, so I'm letting her spend the night here tonight. She's far too little to be outside fighting the cold and the coyotes by her self, so I'll feed her and cuddle her, and take her in to the SPCA come noon tomorrow.
Lucky for me, there is great hatred between her and the resident cats, as otherwise I would be tempted to keep her. Given my druthers, I'd have a houseful of furry beasties, with someone to snuggle at every turn.
I'll get pictures as soon as I can convince the little darling to come out from under the bed: she's not frightened and hiding-- she just found one of Plum's toys under there, and is merrily chewing it to slobbery feathery bits.
My landlord decided to adopt her-- he grinned like a mad thing talking to me about how much fun it would be to sit around with his daughter thinking up a name for her, and how much his daughter already loved the little scamp. Unfortunately, he didn't clear the adoption idea with his wife, who was upset to learn the kitten had been brought inside and fed canned chicken soup.
She put the kitten outside, and it waited right next to the door, ready to sneak in when I went outside to hang our tent's rain fly out on the line.
A tiny calico blur rushed past me and up the steps into my apartment, into a warm, carpeted bedroom, whereupon the blur resolved itself into a white kitten of approximately 11 weeks with an orange ear, a few orange spots on her back, a tabby ear, and a tabby tail. She growled at Plum, but once he lumbered off to visit his food dish, she became a purr machine. I'm smitten, I am, so I'm letting her spend the night here tonight. She's far too little to be outside fighting the cold and the coyotes by her self, so I'll feed her and cuddle her, and take her in to the SPCA come noon tomorrow.
Lucky for me, there is great hatred between her and the resident cats, as otherwise I would be tempted to keep her. Given my druthers, I'd have a houseful of furry beasties, with someone to snuggle at every turn.
I'll get pictures as soon as I can convince the little darling to come out from under the bed: she's not frightened and hiding-- she just found one of Plum's toys under there, and is merrily chewing it to slobbery feathery bits.