Yesterday evening my friend Amy called a bit breathless, "Do you want another cat?"
Her neighbor heard a tiny kitten yelping under Amy's backyard shed. Amy would have cared for it in a heartbeat, but her three small children were accidentally scaring the feline, so we offered to kitten-sit overnight. It turns out he is a boy, and I named him Milo:
He can't be more than two weeks old, and he was abandoned for some odd reason, poor guy. Johnny and I took Parenting 101 last night as we slept every few hours, and tended to Milo in between. His continual bird-like chirp was our alarm clock; we stumbled out of bed to warm his bottle and persuade him that kitten formula is as good as his Mama's milk. We fell asleep praying for God to give Milo peace, and He did each time. Eventually. Today our clothes are covered in kitten fuzz and formula, and probably kitten pee. I look like a cutter due to Milo's sharp miniature claws kneading my arms and hands as he would do to his Mama.
We've been assuring Harley that he is our #1 cat, but he finds Milo highly annoying. Harley peers into Milo's box, and that distinct chirp causes Harley to back away and pretend this isn't happening. Milo is sequestered in the bathroom/laundry room, doors closed, and the only light is our Sacred Heart Jesus night light. To be blatantly honest, I am doing my best to convince Johnny that Harley needs a brother. I will sacrifice sleep and even reading time, sit on the bathroom floor and feed the orphan. And, for Pete's sake, look what good parents we are!:
I wanted to be a veterinarian in high school, and I'm afraid that tendency is resurfacing in a strong way. I'm a sucker for animals, oh Lord, am I ever. At this point, Johnny's practicality seems wise. We are not certain that Harley could handle such a tiny creature for awhile. We would have to keep them separated, a challenge in our apartment.
But we will have a house soon! Plenty of room for two cats! I'm doomed.
We e-mailed our Church and other friends, hoping someone will cave and adopt Milo. We found Special Pals, a no-kill shelter which we insist upon. Milo is too healthy and adorable to be put to sleep. Neither Johnny or I will have it.
Oh wait, after a phone call Johnny discovered they are not accepting any cats at the moment. After another phone call we made an appointment with the Houston Cat Hospital to make sure Milo is healthy. Today we will pray and see if we are up for another furry baby, if it is good for Harley, or if God has another cat-loving home awaiting Milo.
Now Milo's cardboard crib is in our bedroom behind me while I wash all his pee towels. His inner systems are definitely working, and this is a good thing. His chirping is slowing down which means sleep will come soon. Thank you, Jesus.