Cries in the Dark

Last night, after getting off the phone with Kyle, I got back online to finish my profile at enannysource (I’m still looking for jobs…) and while I was sitting and waiting for my photo to upload, I hear tiny little kitty cries.  I sneak out to the dining room window, and listen.  I hear little rustles, and then even louder, more cries.  I go to my room to slip my flip-flops on, grab a flashlight and I sneak out the door, being careful not to slam it so I don’t scare the kitty away.

When I’m standing outside in the dark, with the cool air carressing my bare skin, I hear the cries, and they’re sounding more frantic by the second.  I see a blur streak by my feet; Jasper (the female kitty).  I follow her, and end up at a little sheltered part of the back of the house where old bikes are rusting and collecting dust.  I set the flashlight down on one of the metal seats (the base is magnetic) and point the light where I want it.

With the flashlight pointed where the rustling is coming from, I see a tiny black form, huddled under some cardboard.  When I move so my feet don’t fall asleep, the little form hisses and spits, sounding terrifying.  I want to comfort the poor little guy, left all alone with the wind howling in the night.  The best thing I can think of is to lift Jasper down to the kitten.

Bad idea.

The kitten spits and hisses and hits at her.  I start to wonder if the kitten is indeed Jasper’s.  After awhile, I go back inside, and try to ignore the sad little cries floating in the window.

This morning, I peek out the window to see if the little thing is still there.  I don’t see it, and feel a pang of sadness.  When I creep outside through the long grass, trying to be quiet, I find the kitten huddled deeper under the cardboard.  I talk to him a little bit, surprised that he’s not spitting and hissing at me.  Just meowing his plaintive cry.  His eyes are all crusty and oozing, a sign of malnutrition.

I run inside and tell Pat about the little guy, and after he gets done showering he go outside and look at the little thing, huddled all alone.

I take Pat to work, all the while thinking of ways to catch him without getting eaten alive.  When I get home, I get leather gloves, and a deep cardboard boax, because kittens are like Houdini’s, right?  I walk out to where he’s hidden, and reach down to pet him.  He just cries.  I take one glove off, and pet him with the tips of my fingers.  Then I figure he’s harmless, and lift him out.  I set him in my lap, and he burrows into my belly, crying in his sad little voice.

When I set him down next to Jasper, to see if he is her’s, he crawls to her belly and latches on.  Jasper doesn’t move.  I pet the little guy, and cuddle him every few minutes.

He’s finally calmed down, and doesn’t make the little heartwrenching cries as much, and I’m thinking about names.  He’s an adorable little thing, fuzzy and sweet.  When his eyes are open enough despite the gunk, his eyes are a newborn, milky blue.  I’d take a picture, but you know, my camera is missing.  Someday, you’ll see how painfully adorable the little thing is.

But today, he’s all mine. :)

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