Midnight. Kitty crying outside. It’s 10 degrees.
So I do the only thing I can do; I head out the front door, use the universal kitty call – “psst psst psst” – and up runs a beautiful deep ginger kitty. He’s freezing, and after running around the house for a few minutes (Tippi and Manny safely ensconced in my bedroom), he decides that one of the catnip toys is The Shiznit.
I crate him – hooray for still having that borrowed crate! – and he settles right in. BTW, Tippi and Manny seem to be fine, and Manny snuggles with me overnight.
This morning, I run to BARCS to borrow a carrier (figured why not, as he’s going over anyway), and at 11 when the drop off clinic opens, Pumpkin and I head out.
He’s now safe, warm, and most likely vaccinated. Sadly, no microchip. But he’s so sweet that he should be adopted asap. No pics because brain. Sigh.
But I feel like I’ve accomplished something decent. Several FB friends have said that I did a good thing. But for me? I don’t feel like I can accept their warm fuzziness. It was the only thing I could have done. This wasn’t me doing good. It was me doing the only thing that I could live with.
Y’know, besides taking Pumpkin in forever. Because if I know anything now, I know my kitty limits.
Yawn. Back to bed.