Monday, 13 October 2008
It's Thanksgiving this weekend, and I went home to celebrate it.
On Saturday, my Mom, my brother, and I went to the dump to drop some stuff off. On the way back, my brother asked if we could take a quick drive through the local swamp. We did, and it was a good thing, too. Half-way through the bush, from the grass on the side of the road there peeked a little fuzzy black face. We stopped and discovered a kitten who had been abandoned. She was quite weak and dehydrated, but friendly.
We took her into the car and drove to the nearest convenience store, where we purchased canned cat food and water. She loved the canned cat food, that's for sure. We then took her to a friend with a barn full of cats, hoping he could take her. No luck, however, as no one was home. So we took her back to our house. Mom would gladly have kept her, but for the fact that we already have two large dogs who would probably thank us very kindly for the meal, can we please have another? For the rest of Saturday we had to lock the kitten in assorted rooms of the house with a kitty litter box, a dish of water, some cat food, and an old pillow.
My brother and I sent various on-line pleas for adoption on behalf of the little kitten. That night, the kitten slept on my brother's bed up in our attic bedroom.
On Sunday, the kitten wouldn't eat. When we got back home from our day's activities (maybe the subject of another post), we worried over the cat, checked on-line to see if we got any replies (none), and noticed that she was sniffling. Eventually we got a hold of the friend with the barn, who happens to be studying to be a vet tech. We arranged to take the kitten over there to have a penicillin shot. At about the same time, my brother's girlfriend's housemate said he might be able to adopt the kitten. After feeding her water with an eye-dropper, we drove the kitten over to the friend's place, where he administered the needle. We talked for a while, during which time we determined that she needed a week's worth of penicillin. Therefore, instead of depositing the little girl directly off to the adopter on Monday (today), Mom would keep the little girl for a week so our friend could continue giving penicillin.
This morning we got up early, went to the friend's place for another shot, and then drove to my school city again, where I am now typing. The little kitten rode with us, and was forced to endure more feeding through an eye-dropper. On arriving at my house, my brother let her play in the grass across the street, during which time she ate again. My brother went in to use the washroom, and my Mom, housemate, and I watched as the kitten tried to chase a squirrel. They left shortly after that, and here I am typing this account of the Thanksgiving kitten.
So far we've come up with a few different names for her, though I suppose whoever adopts her will name her for real. Liccorice, shaman, magic, and bayou were all suggested: liccorice and magic because she is black; shaman and bayou because she comes from the swamp.
I wondered what ought to be done with people who dump cats off in the wild when they don't want them any more. We've had a cat before who we received that way--she was never quite normal. Our second cat came over from the neighbour's, and they received him in a bag with the rest of his litter--he was a little runt tomcat at the time. My mother said she figures they are city people who think that animals will instictively survive in the wild, even if they're raised by humans in a house. You'd have to be pretty stunned to think that, but I don't know. I don't like holding grudges against people I've never met for a mistake--however horrible--they've made. If I had to come up with a vendetta, though, (and I thought about it for half an hour after finding the little one), I think I'd have the idiot dropped off about equidistance between Fort McMurray and Churchill. I'm not one hundred percent sure on this one, but I figure it would be a pretty long walk from there to anywhere you might be able to get help, and I'd say you could easily meet a bear, a pack of wolves, or a territorial moose first...and that's even if you knew which direction to walk in. That, I think, would be an appropriate way of dealing with offenders. But, as I said, no grudges.
I do hope that everything goes well for little Liccorice, or whomever. I can tell you we consider the possibility to Someone guided us to go through the swamp that afternoon and find the little furball, because otherwise she'd not have made the night. Regardless, I can tell you that I was thankful this Thanksgiving for finding the kitten and being able to save this one life.
Posted by Christian H at 11:25