Dear Little Kitten …
Proud Little Boy
Dear Little Kitten,
I look at you and I am struck by so many things … You are a beautiful little stripey wild cat who looks like a cougar and a tiger and a bobcat and a leopard all rolled up into one streak of energy … As I write you this letter, you are sleeping next to me on the lounge. Like a typical cat, you are sleeping on my “very important papers.”
I found you and your sister and little brother. Your sister was the smart one, your little brother was the smallest most timid and you, you were the brave one. You and your little sister were under the dumpster scared and starving and your brother was back in your nest in the cactus …
I didn’t know who you were … I met your mother just over a year ago … she turned up at our complex as a young female … she was black and white and the type of cat that I usually go for … The kitten I rescued 15 years ago was black and white, and still is living at home with my parents … and my cat is black and white, rescued from the RSPCA partly because she’s, yeah, you guessed it, black and white (plus she purred and looked so pitiful and purred the second I held her in my arms). Your mother was the most timid little thing but she was a fighter and a survivor. It wasn’t long before she had a litter of kittens. She was a strong mother. Not all of her bubs survived, as I noticed that a couple disappeared … but she fulfilled her role ~ to survive, pass on her genes … that’s what her instinct was telling her to do. And she did it.
When I found you … I didn’t know that you were her baby. I didn’t know she’d had another litter … Your two big sisters still wander around every now and then, a beautiful black and white and a calico.
When I think about your mum, I get sad. I am deeply saddened that a cat had to survive on the street and do it alone. I am sad that someone dumped her … that she only had her instincts and while they made her a strong survivor, they also told her to breed and add to the problem … more kittens. I often looked down upon her from my balcony and felt so sad … I know that it was probably all she knew, but nonetheless, I felt such sadness.
When I came back downstairs after seeing you and your sister, I didn’t know there were three of you. It was my goal to rescue you. I used to catch kittens when I was a child as I grew up with a neighbor who horded cats he rescued … I knew what I was doing.
First I caught you, and your sister almost in one handful. You hissed and you bit me and then you growled a slow rumble-growl, then you relaxed. When I got you upstairs, I saw that you had a weeping eye, and I knew that you had cat-flu. So straight into quarantine in my bathroom you went. Not long after, you were joined with your brother. He was trickier to catch as he was so much more timid. But luckily for all of us, he didn’t like being alone and came looking for you.
I was going to just surrender you to my vet. They do rescue work and are an ethical vet. I knew that you would be in good hands despite your low weight. (The RSPCA usually puts down kittens who weigh less than half a kilogram). But my beautiful partner said no, we have to bring them home. He loves little creatures, and while not a cat person before we started going out, he’s definitely a cat person now. So we brought you home.
I fell in love with you. I also had a soft spot for your black and white brother, but there was something about you. My partner fell in love with you too. He saw that something I saw too.
So our neighbour took your brother and sister and gave them a home. And we kept you.
Your mother was hit by a car one weekend. We saw her on the nature strip late one night, but we thought, no, not a cat, just rubbish. I feel guilty that I didn’t go and look and pay her the respect that I feel she deserved. She could have been moving you and your litter to your new location … I would like to think that there were only three of you.
You were alone for 5 days … you were alone, and starving and scared. I snatched you and brought you home and it only took one night before you were tame. I read that kittens need to be socialised by 6 weeks or you have difficulty taming them in future. We were lucky.
If your mother hadn’t have died, you, the strongest and bravest, would have probably died from illness. So, in a way, your mother not only gave you life, she died to give you life again.
So little kitten, as you lie next to me sleeping, and I write this, I am struck by how life is. I have watched you grow and develop and you have taught me so much about how life develops. So thank you little one, for the lessons you’ve given me, and the many more I know will come!
I look at you, and I think of your mother, I am both sad, and happy.
So that little kitten, is the beginning of your story.
P.S. Please stop biting me! It’s really hurting! And play nice with your sister … She’s 9 years old after all.
Friday Tuesday
