LJ Idol Exhibit A - Topic 02 - So Innocent, a Precious Soul
o/` "I can remember when you fit in the palm of my hand
Felt so good in it, no bigger than a minute
How it amazes me, you're changing with every blink
Faster than a flower blooms they grow up all too soon" o/`
-- "Let Them Be Little" performed by Lonestar
I used to volunteer at animal shelters. The work wasn't glamorous --- scrubbing kennels, washing pet dishes, scooping poop --- but I felt satisfied to be even a small part of an organization whose goal was to find these animals permanent, loving homes.
On adoption days, we would arrive looking our best in our polos with the shelter logo on the pocket so that we could greet potential adopters. Those more qualified handled the interviews and forms but I had the small honor of leading the people back among the cages to look at our charges. At the end of the day, most of them had found homes. For some reason, the kittens were always passed over. Puppies got adopted but no one seemed to want the kittens. We ran a no-kill shelter so the kittens were in no danger of being euthanized; usually they found homes when they were older. Thinking about this, I surmised that most people looking for cats assumed they needed less care and attention than a dog in general and a small kitten didn't fit the criteria. Every weekend the same behavior repeated itself: people picked them up and held them, played with them, cuddled them...and then put them back down in order to look at an older cat.
I wasn't looking for another cat when I found Crowley. I already had four at home, all grown and able to take care of themselves.
Every Thursday, Dorie and I make a trip into the city to shop at the large farmer's market on Beaver Street. We'd been doing this long enough to be recognized by the various vendors and to have built a friendship with Miss Mary, the woman from whom we bought most of our goods. On these excursions I sit in my chair chatting and checking items off the list as we find them. I had just signaled to Dorie that she should pick up some Brussels sprouts, which were not on the list, when she jumped aside as though something had bitten her. It's not unusual to find unwanted visitors such as snakes, spiders, or tree frogs in the open market but this was the first time I'd ever seen a kitten crawl out of a box of tomatoes! Dorie plucked the little thing off her thigh and held it for a moment; Miss Mary explained that the litter had been found without a mama cat and they were hoping to save them.
The kitten barely filled my hand. Someone had tried to wash him in order to get rid of the fleas but it hadn't worked. He mewled piteously and shivered. I snatched Dorie's jazz festival shirt right off her back and wrapped it around the kitten. Dorie tried twice to get him back so she could put him in the empty tomato box but I wasn't about to let go. We had a new kitty.
Young kittens require intensive attention to keep them alive. Crowley didn't know how to drink out of a bowl and without teeth he couldn't chew even kitten kibble. We bought a bottle and kitten formula. Every two hours or so he would cry for his bottle. During the day, this as either an annoyance or a welcome break. During the night, there were times when I really wished that I had tossed him back into the produce. We kept him confined in a small carrier meant for the budgies because he was too small to be allowed to roam through the house. The toy rat we bought him, meant for a cat to kick and toss about, was bigger than Crowley and ended up being used as a pillow prop for the bottle. He was too small for us to use flea shampoo and treatment on him so he had to have daily baths in Dawn dish soap until the pests were gone. He had eye drops which went into his little eyes because they tended to dry out.
All my friends and family, at some point, asked me, "Are you sure you want this kitten?"
Yeah, I'm certain. I don't toss away little lives just because they're inconvenient.
Today, Crowley is a nine pound terror who runs around the house crazily before returning every night to sleep in the blankets between Dorie and I...but he started off as a little scrap of nothing. Sometimes the little ones are worth it. I won't ever pass over the kittens again.
Photo #1: Crowley's first attempt at kitten chow, which we soaked in formula to make the transition easier
Photo #2: Crowley has gotten big enough to explore the house under supervision, but he's still an itty bitty kitty. The plush he's sitting next to is only six inches tall.
Photo #3: Crowley has grown into a sleek, elegant adult cat. We were packing for a holiday and he decided to warm the suitcase.
Felt so good in it, no bigger than a minute
How it amazes me, you're changing with every blink
Faster than a flower blooms they grow up all too soon" o/`
-- "Let Them Be Little" performed by Lonestar
I used to volunteer at animal shelters. The work wasn't glamorous --- scrubbing kennels, washing pet dishes, scooping poop --- but I felt satisfied to be even a small part of an organization whose goal was to find these animals permanent, loving homes.
On adoption days, we would arrive looking our best in our polos with the shelter logo on the pocket so that we could greet potential adopters. Those more qualified handled the interviews and forms but I had the small honor of leading the people back among the cages to look at our charges. At the end of the day, most of them had found homes. For some reason, the kittens were always passed over. Puppies got adopted but no one seemed to want the kittens. We ran a no-kill shelter so the kittens were in no danger of being euthanized; usually they found homes when they were older. Thinking about this, I surmised that most people looking for cats assumed they needed less care and attention than a dog in general and a small kitten didn't fit the criteria. Every weekend the same behavior repeated itself: people picked them up and held them, played with them, cuddled them...and then put them back down in order to look at an older cat.
I wasn't looking for another cat when I found Crowley. I already had four at home, all grown and able to take care of themselves.
Every Thursday, Dorie and I make a trip into the city to shop at the large farmer's market on Beaver Street. We'd been doing this long enough to be recognized by the various vendors and to have built a friendship with Miss Mary, the woman from whom we bought most of our goods. On these excursions I sit in my chair chatting and checking items off the list as we find them. I had just signaled to Dorie that she should pick up some Brussels sprouts, which were not on the list, when she jumped aside as though something had bitten her. It's not unusual to find unwanted visitors such as snakes, spiders, or tree frogs in the open market but this was the first time I'd ever seen a kitten crawl out of a box of tomatoes! Dorie plucked the little thing off her thigh and held it for a moment; Miss Mary explained that the litter had been found without a mama cat and they were hoping to save them.
The kitten barely filled my hand. Someone had tried to wash him in order to get rid of the fleas but it hadn't worked. He mewled piteously and shivered. I snatched Dorie's jazz festival shirt right off her back and wrapped it around the kitten. Dorie tried twice to get him back so she could put him in the empty tomato box but I wasn't about to let go. We had a new kitty.
Young kittens require intensive attention to keep them alive. Crowley didn't know how to drink out of a bowl and without teeth he couldn't chew even kitten kibble. We bought a bottle and kitten formula. Every two hours or so he would cry for his bottle. During the day, this as either an annoyance or a welcome break. During the night, there were times when I really wished that I had tossed him back into the produce. We kept him confined in a small carrier meant for the budgies because he was too small to be allowed to roam through the house. The toy rat we bought him, meant for a cat to kick and toss about, was bigger than Crowley and ended up being used as a pillow prop for the bottle. He was too small for us to use flea shampoo and treatment on him so he had to have daily baths in Dawn dish soap until the pests were gone. He had eye drops which went into his little eyes because they tended to dry out.
All my friends and family, at some point, asked me, "Are you sure you want this kitten?"
Yeah, I'm certain. I don't toss away little lives just because they're inconvenient.
Today, Crowley is a nine pound terror who runs around the house crazily before returning every night to sleep in the blankets between Dorie and I...but he started off as a little scrap of nothing. Sometimes the little ones are worth it. I won't ever pass over the kittens again.
Photo #1: Crowley's first attempt at kitten chow, which we soaked in formula to make the transition easier
Photo #2: Crowley has gotten big enough to explore the house under supervision, but he's still an itty bitty kitty. The plush he's sitting next to is only six inches tall.
Photo #3: Crowley has grown into a sleek, elegant adult cat. We were packing for a holiday and he decided to warm the suitcase.