Last week, Athena and I saw a little black kitten sprinting across our yard as we drove in the car; we got out to look for it, but it had well and truly disappeared into the treeline. We saw it again a couple days later, when we heard our cats growling at something in the garage; the kitten had come in and the other cats were preparing to beat the crap out of it. We removed the other cats and got a look at the kitten. It was just about fur and bones, which suggested it was no one’s cat at all, so we gave it some cat food and water. It wouldn’t eat while we were about so we left it in the garage with the food. Five minutes later the food was all gone and the kitten had sprinted away. Since then we’ve left a small bowl of food out for the kitten; we don’t see it much but the food goes down. Finally this evening I went downstairs and found the kitten sunning itself on the back deck; evidence that it’s getting comfortable around here. But not too comfortable, since when I came out to snap some photos of it, it promptly ran away.
So the order of business sometime relatively soon: get the cat back in the garage (seems possible, as that’s where we leave food for it), trap it there, stuff it into a cat carrier and take it along to the vet to see if it’s healthy and to, you know, get the thing snipped. We’ll figure out what to do with it from there. My mother-in-law’s been hinting she wants a cat, so this could work, provided it’s not irretrievably feral. Regardless, it’s not going to starve anytime soon, which given its previous condition is a step up.
Yes, we’re saps. But, you know. I’d rather be a sap than to have a dead kitten on my conscience.