Sunday 12:51pm 4May08
After my prisoner of expectations moment this week, I walked home Thursday after work and decided to go into the vet to see the kitten in the window. Sometimes a cat lover needs to tease herself. Can you feel it coming? ha ha!
The workers were all very friendly, got me behind closed doors to see the kitten and informed me that she wasn't the only kitten they had. Kitten in the window is a black kitten with white feet. The other two kittens, also girls, were all black. I was phewing all over the place because, if the truth be known, I want a boy cat. I already have three girls. Isaac says, "we have one more kitten. We keep HIM separated because he has the sniffles and is on antibiotics." Jessica returns with Isaac to tell me that itsy bitsy boy had rough beginnings and almost died twice but he's doing fine and he purrs the moment you touch him and he's really affectionate and we all just love him! He is 10 weeks old and is the size of a 3 or 4 week kitten. He's got the big forehead and expressive eyes much like Yoda, what all the staff have been calling him. Yoda is the spitting image of kitten in the window.
I say, "I'm all about rough beginnings!"
Jessica says, "Then he's your guy!"
Yes. I inherited my mother's love of the runt of the litter. I like to fill a need when there is a problem. My heart opens wide when someone is in crisis. But that is the height of being human isn't it? When that news story hits of major misfortune whether it's September 11th or Hurricane Katrina, or an innocent bystander walking down the street and accidentally being shot and killed and leaving his child fatherless. Or that little girl abandoned in the stairwell during the winter of which many famillies wanted to adopt. Heck, I wanted to adopt her. With the worst stories we all really step up to the plate to help out in what ever way we can.
So yes, what I'm saying is I've adopted itsy bitsy male kitten. He almost died twice and he wheezes when he breathes and he's the size of one of my hands and he's still on antibiotics (supplied for free from the vet). And since he's such a little guy with poor beginnings I name him Gatsby, after F. Scott Fitzgerald's character and the name goes nicely with Zelda, my two year old, named after F. Scott's wife. The big cats are all pretty bitter as what happens in the beginning. Zelda is too busy running away scared to really check the mini man out. Picasso and Quincy spit at him and spit at eachother and spit at a fluff of dust. But they're not giving up their positions on the bed although they give me dirty looks when I bring Gatsby up to cuddle.
When I went to pick him up yesterday, just about every staff member came out to check me out and say good bye to their favorite rescue and beg me to bring him in for a visit. Last night I chose a birthdate for him, counting back ten weeks from the day I met him since they weren't sure of his actual birthdate. Although I will ask again just to be sure. Ten weeks ago was still in Pisces and around my birthday. haha. So his chosen by me birthdate is Feb 28th. And he's a leap year baby like me.
What is more exciting than watching a baby something? What is better than to nurture and love?