Last week, we applied for an adoption of an orange and white kitten who won’t be ready for our forever home until early June. Three long weeks to wait for the pitter-patter sounds of tiny feet, the squeekiest of meows, the pouncing on fingers and toes and those teensy, sharp kitten teeth.
Or maybe we don’t have to wait that long.
Introducing a kitten, that is not ours. Yet. Don’t let the fact that it’s living in our isolated bedroom fool you. Female, approximately 9 weeks old, nary but a single flea found on her, eats and drinks and uses a litter box like a champ. Someone took good care of her at one time.
Last Friday evening, two young girls arrived on our doorstep with a lost kitten. Apparently, we’re the go-to home for wayward cats, and everyone knew it but us. Kind of.
The story is sketchy at best as to where and how she was found. Regardless, our neighborhood is plastered with Kitten Found posters (no photo or description listed – we want the real owner to identify it) as should be routine in such cases. You’d think that if anyone nearby lost a kitten, this adorably sweet one that has practically given us cavities by now, we’d have gotten a call about it by now. We haven’t heard a peep.
The time clock is ticking. Later this week, we’re taking her in for testing, microchip scan, and first round shots. We’re okay with footing the bill. After that, after another week goes by and we haven’t heard anything, we’re keeping her. Cut and dried, plain and simple. Back to our vet for a spay, microchip if she doesn’t already have one, and the rest of her shots. Then, she’ll be a Colehaus Cat. (Oh, quiet you who insist she already is!)
And then next month, we get to do it all over again! Two kittens at once! What timing!