The Kitten

                                                                                     
It's a well known fact in our family that I am a sucker.  If it is weak, helpless or young, I can't resist it.  Over the years, Hubby has grown used to this weakness.  In fact he has exploited it several times when he had a sickly calf that needed extra care.  Before I would even realize his plot,  I would be mixing milk and running to the barn to feed the baby. 

So it should be no surprise that upon sighting a little black and white face peeking out from under some shrubs by the roadside that I would have to stop. 

Reacting on instinct, I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the car.  Running around to the line of shrubs I searched for the tiny kitten.  Not seeing it, I rounded the end of the bushes and looked into the grass, just in time to spot it disappearing into the slope.  I ran over and could just see a bit of fur peeking out from the muddy tunnel, created by the run-off from the bank parking lot.  Just then, I heard a voice call, "Have you lost something?"  I looked up in dismay to see three cars stopped behind my parked vehicle, waiting to get on with their journey.  Looking down I decided to be sensible for once.  After all, only an idiot would stick their bare hand in a hole to grab a kitten without knowing what else was in there with it! Waving, I returned to my car and drove on.

All the way home I thought about the little kitten.  The heavy rains had probably washed it into the drainage pipe that led under the parking lot and dumped into the grassy area leading to the culvert under the highway.  There was no way out of the patch of grass in any direction except to cross a busy road.  The rushing waters had riddled the area with washed out spots that made a good hiding place, but a poor home and more rain was forecast.

Arriving home, I grabbed a pair of leather gloves, an old towel, and my pet crate and turned back to town.  This time I parked out of the way and made my way cautiously down the slope.  I caught a flash just as the kitten dropped out of sight again.  On my hands and knees I peered into the little hollowed out bank.  There, I could just see him.  Gently I reached in and felt a tiny leg.  Praying it wasn't holed up with a bigger cousin, I eased it out of the hole.  The terrified little body, shivered and shook.  I quickly took it back to the car and placed it in the crate. 

Since I had to pass the veterinarian's office on the way home I decided to make a quick stop. Carrying the muddy, terrified kitten into the office, I put him on the counter.  The office girl looked up.  "I just want to know one thing,"  I declared, "if it's male or female!"  Laughing, she checked then decided that a second opinion was needed.  I'm here to tell you it's not that easy.  I have heard that there are specialized people who make big money "sexing" baby chickens at hatcheries but for my money baby kittens are worse.  Finally, she returned and said that the three of them had decided it was a female.  Of course!  I think all stray cats are female and destined to reproduce like rabbits.

"OK", I sighed, "If it decides to live I'll be back to have her spayed!"  Knowing me well, they laughed and waved me on my way.

Coming home that afternoon, Hubby eyed the crate parked in the half finished utility room, "What is it this time?"  he inquired cautiously.  "Well, I've got a new barn cat for you."  Crouching down, he peered into the crate, "It might help if it was bigger than the mice. I suspect there are things in the barn that could carry this off!"  "Oh, she'll grow into a good barn cat." I replied.

Later he watched silently as I held the tiny kitten in my lap watching her bat at my fingers.  Sighing, he nodded at the kitten, "It's never going to be a barn cat, is it?"

Yes, the man is a saint.