An expected goodbye and an unexpected hello

Update to the following: after two days of being missing, look at the sweet face I saw waiting for me in the bushes!  I guess all is forgiven.  🙂

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I said goodbye to Dorian yesterday. Took him to the ravine near sunset, let him get his bearings (smelling forest-y aromas, hearing birds trill, feeling the breeze he had not felt in two months) told him if he changed his mind about being a housecat, I would be happy to take him home again. I’d say the odds of that are infinitesimal. He put one foot out of the carrier, then another, creeping like a skillful ninja – not like the lethargic boy who slept 23 hours a day in my care. Then he flew over the side of the sidewalk and into the brambles, taking my breath away with his speed.

And then, curiously, he paused to look back. He held my gaze for a moment: no affection, just recognition. I blurted out, “go on! Have fun!” And he disappeared. I sat a few minutes, trying to sort through varying emotions, from relief that he’s (hopefully) better enough to survive and even thrive out there, grief that I won’t see his gorgeous eyes every day, and sadness that my charms were wasted on him. But, I reminded myself, you can’t win (over) them all.

In truth, I let him go sooner than planned – maybe just a couple days, but I could tell he was ready, and thanks to a nutty week in cat-land, I was awash in felines. It was a turbulent week: I had helped Maggie keep an eye out for one of her regulars, Tom Tom, who showed up desperately ill a couple of weeks ago and then disappeared. I got the call on Tuesday morning that he had returned, and could I come and help? And bring a carrier because hers was already being used for an unexpected kitten. It turns out little help was needed. Tom Tom all but walked into her arms and went limp. We put him in my carrier, and whisked both him and the new kitten away to the vet’s, where we waited to be seen.

Only then did I get to see the little heartbreaker. Oh my, did she take my breath. What a face!

Chris, a homeless man we both are acquainted with, had gone up to Maggie while she was waiting for Tom Tom, opened his jacket and pulled her out. He had found her wandering behind the Post Office. Just 5 or so weeks old, and so starving you could feel every bone in her tiny body. I don’t believe she’d ever had cat food before; when we opened a can for her she gulped it, sucking and coughing, as kittens do when they’re first weaned. Whatever happened to her mama is unclear – she could have been killed, or just unskilled in leading kittens to a food source. But this wee angel was found just in time.

So even as Maggie grieved for Tom Tom, euthanized in one examination room after being diagnosed with acute leukemia (FELV), we were embracing this new life in another room. Found to be female, and diagnosed with fleas and FIV (or perhaps they were her mother’s antibodies?) she is nonetheless an extraordinary life form. Brave, sweet and opinionated, I’ve named her Lizzie Bennet, after my favorite heroine from Pride and Prejudice. And in the few days since taking her on, I have recalled how much work underage kittens can be. Lizzie is a peeing and pooping machine, and even as crushingly adorable as she is, she is a screamer, and it’s disconcerting. MEOW MEOW MEOW! Almost 24-7. She wants out of her dog crate, she misses her mama, she’s hungry, she wants to get cozy with Pokey, from whom she is clearly descended.

(I have allowed them some sniffing time while I cuddle her, but fear if she has mites or something else contagious, I don’t want him to get it.)

Anyway, between her and precious, sweet Skeeter, I am way over my limit. I am hoping to find a foster or a home for Lizzie, with someone who can bring her along, out of infancy and into health. Skeeter will be a harder placement – she is less malleable and jet black (something I find beautiful but others don’t) – and I need to focus more energy on her. Lizzie Bennet will find a home quickly, I expect, based on her adorableness.

A larger question is why these sick/wounded/injured animals keep finding me? There’s a certain amount of grace involved, I expect, and I am grateful every time I take someone to the vet or buy them special food, that I have support from a wonderful benefactor. I’m always this close to broke, and could not do this work without help. It’s why Maggie and I are starting a nonprofit. We don’t want any compensation for doing what we do, but if we’re funded, more kitties can be helped.

Didn’t mean to turn this into an ad or a plea – though that will come at some point in the future. For now, I have some kitten poop to wipe off a tiny bottom. And a prayer to say for Tom Tom. And a candle to light for dear Dorian. St. Francis, watch over him – and Miss Lizzie, and Skeeter, and Ginger, and… every kitty out there needing care that I am lucky enough to help.