It was Saturday night, approximately 9 p.m. Peter and I just got home from a wedding reception we were grossly underdressed for.
Upon exiting the vehicle and stepping onto the porch, we heard the distinct meow of a cat, perhaps a kitten. It sounded to me like it was at a house across the street and didn’t think much of it. Peter, however, thought it sounded much closer. I said he was wrong.
Like any other time we leave the dogs home alone, we let them outside immediately to do their business. Well, Pete let them outside while I went into the bedroom for one reason or another (probably to get online). That’s when it happened.
Enter Peter: “Umm, babe? We have a kitten on the porch.”
But there it was, tiny and black and cute and not afraid of Velvet or Callie. And on our porch. With no mama kitty or owner in sight. I even asked a not-very-nice woman across the street if she knew who the kitten might belong to. Her response? “It might belong to *what’s-her-name*. But watch out for her dog – don’t go in the fence.” So how tf, exactly, do you propose we ask what’s-her-name if the kitten is hers?
Pretty sure said woman was cracked out, anyway.
I couldn’t leave the thing outside, alone, to freeze. So the kitten’s been with us since Saturday night. I’ve never been a cat person so I’m not exactly thrilled about this. But I’m definitely a kitten person. And it’s been cute to see Pete take care of it… he went to the store and got kitty food, kitty litter and even constructed a homemade litter box.
Callie’s been treating the kitty (it still has no name, though we’re fairly certain it’s a girl) like a glorified chew toy, which isn’t great but she’s getting better.
The plan is to NOT keep the kitty forever – ideally Pete’s mom or sister will take it because, to be honest, I am getting a bit attached and would like visitation rights. But if all else fails, she’s fitting quite nicely into the family (she does, after all, match the black-and-white color scheme we have going) so we just might keep her after all.