Here , Kitty Kitty

     

Yes, I know this blog is early. It is also supposed to be Part Three of our life with Spartacus Jones. But something happened the other night, and I am....Uncomfortable. Part Three will have to wait until next week, or the week after that. 

I'd also like to express my gratitude to my readers, all of you, for the outpouring of condolences for the loss of my friend Kevin. I was worried about coming across as 'Thirsty', but I did need to write it all out, and your sympathies lifted my heart. This cat blog is me expressing the doubt I feel for I cat I just met, and how I handled it. 

     This incident started May 31st evening before I heard about Kevin. I was watering the peonies and the Chinese lanterns in my front yard. The sun was still up, and hot, but my front yard was already in shade, so I always do those flowers first. 

     When I came to my back porch, someone was in my driveway, checking out my car. 

     My neighborhood has theft issues, so I was wary, yet somehow stupid. I yelled, "Can I help you?" He looked up at me, and kept checking out my car, so instead of getting help, I bellowed, "CAN I HELP YOU?!"

     He said, "There's a cat under your car." I put the watering can down and went to investigate. Sure enough, kitty under our car. I told him I would be back with food to coax the cat out. I ran inside the house and yelled, "Problem, Dan."  No response. I realized I needed to sound a bit more urgent. "Problem, Dan....Cute, adorable problem." That got his attention...

     By the time we arrived in my driveway, the kid had the VERY tiny KITTEN  in his arms. I held the dish of food up to it's mouth and it gobbled every morsel. 

     "Jeez..." Dan said, "How old is it? What, six months?"
     "Younger, I think. Freya was bigger at six months than this."
     "So tiny..."|
     "Poor baby is so hungry."
     "Probably hasn't eaten all damned day."

     The young man was a teenager or a young adult, and scruffy. It made me smile to look at him, because I was reminded of a short story I'd once written. It was about a Boomer widow who befriended a goth kid because he brought her cat home. It was called 'Late Bloomers' and I literally can't tell you much more, because I signed a contract saying I wouldn't give details about it because it was a fundraiser for the Sophie Lancaster Foundation  For the record, the book it's in is called 'Dare to Shine" and it is about anti-bullying, since Sophie Lancaster was literally murdered for being Goth. One hundred percent of the proceeds go to The Sophie Lancaster Foundation, and I'm ferociously proud of my part in it. Everyone, from writers, cover designer and editors volunteered their work for free, and the above photo is the cover for it. Here's a link to buy it. 

Dare-Shine-Anthology-C-Hibbs/dp/1533316279

That's a bit of perhaps unnecessary promotion, but like I said, I'm proud of that book and what we all did with it. Plus it's relevant, because my story has a lost cat in it, and it goes to a good cause. 

     As he held the cat, I was reminded of a quote 'Julie' made in that story..."Animals know good people." Kitty was perfectly content...until he handed it to me. Kitty reached and cried for him. I handed the kitten to Dan, who took it inside. 

     I did ask if he was interested in keeping the kitten if we couldn't find the owner. I intended to start with Next Door, followed by a few cat finder sites I followed on Facebook. He said no, absolutely not, loved cats, had one he could barely afford to...no. I chuckled at him... I said, " I'm sorry I freaked a bit. I thought you were trying to steal our car." He snickered like it was no big thing, since he wasn't from the neighborhood. He was on his way to a friend's house when he spotted the cat.

     I assured the kid it was not uncommon for stray cats to wind up in this neighborhood, and that even though we had three cats already, we would figure it out what was best for this little one.

I came inside, and watched my feet. I was making chive butter and preparing dinner, and observed the kitten exploring our kitchen and living room. It seemed only five minutes when that kid knocked on our door. 

He'd told his friend about the kitten. The friend had a car, and volunteered to take it to the Humane Society with him. I found the kitten, and handed it over. I made him promise it would be okay. I was thinking of naming it Bastet if it was a girl. He promised to take care of the wee one. He loved cats and the kitten would get the best chance at the Humane Society. He figured it was the simplest way. 

After the kitten and the kid left, Dan said, "We could have kept it. I could have loved that cat."  I agreed, but reminded him that we have two cats and a Timeshare Prince that we can't control. A KITTEN?  Goodbye sleep. 

Why do I feel like I've made a mistake? He seemed like a nice kid who really loved cats, and the kitten liked him. Why do I feel uncomfortable? Would he really go out of his way to bring her to safety? Does the Humane Society still charge a fee for dumping animals?  

When I took Luna in, (Different cat blog that I'll write sometime.) I remember they politely asked me if I would donate $20 for processing, and I did. Twenty bucks was a small price to get her home safely. Did the same rule apply? The young man wasn't exactly wearing designer digs. Would he and his friend pay it? 

This is going to sound weird, and off topic. I found out that someone I met over the internet, Farmville, no less has passed away. It hurts like Hell. Internet friend or not, he was important to me. I love him, and I always will. He once told me that when he died, he wanted to be reincarnated into one of my supremely spoiled rescue cats. 

He died the afternoon of May 31st, and kitten showed up around dinner time. Am I being silly? Maybe. I already know that reincarnation doesn't work that way. Still....I want that cat back. I feel off...like I made a mistake, even before I knew of Kevin's passing.

We didn't even have the time to check the sex of the kitten, or even get photos. I remember thinking to myself how this kitten might just fit in...We had a black cat, a white cat and a fluffy black and white cat. This cat was a short haired white cat with black markings, maybe four months old. 

After I learned of Kevin's death, I felt like I'd given Kevin away when I gave that kitten back. I need to keep reminding myself. Reincarnation. Doesn't. Work. Like. That. 

Something else occurred to me just now as I'm writing this blog. What if the kid, whose name I never got, took the kitten away because he didn't trust US? What if he figured that if we already had three cats, how would we take care of a kitten? Maybe he was afraid that older, established cats might bully such a small thing? I'm a Headbanger. Who am I to judge someone because he's a bit unkempt? 

I need to trust that the kid did right. Who am I to decide what's best for this cat, when it clearly liked him? My character 'Julie'  first judged the Goth kid. But she believed that  "Animals know good people." and pet owners know it's true. The kitten clearly wanted to stay with him. 

But my heart grieves for my friend Kevin, and I feel like I just gave him away. Like I proved, once again, that I am an absent friend. 

For the record, I checked social media anyway. There were no reports anywhere that I could find for a cat of those colors, never mind a kitten.