Updated: Jan 13, 2021
So last Tuesday I was minding my own business, obliviously heading into my local Best Buy, when I heard the most pitiful meowing in the distance. As I got closer to the entrance there he was, standing in front of the sliding doors, desperately trying to get someone's attention. As I watched he tried to follow multiple people into the store, nearly getting caught in those mechanical monster doors in the process.
Of course I had to take him home. I mean, honestly, who could leave such a sweet face all alone on a winter night?
He was cold, and wet, and starving, and we fed him, and petted him, and gave him a warm place to sleep.
A visit to my local vet the next day revealed that he had no microchip (and so most probably did not belong to anyone), was severely underweight (which I knew), plus had a wicked ear mite infestation as well as intestinal parasites. He was quarantined for a few days while we took care of those issues and waited to see if any other communicable diseases manifested themselves. Luckily none did, and on Wednesday we received the all clear to introduce him into the rest of the house.
Needless to say, our aging population of grand dames, divas, and criminals weren't sure what to make of this young whipper snapper invading their territory. There's been a fair amount of hissing and snide looks going around. And Max, of course, well he's convinced we've finally given in and given him a real, live toy. He was quite disappointed to discover that was not the case after all.
Still, it's been a fairly smooth transition, considering the feline egos we have around here. So far Shadow is making himself at home with gusto--convinced, I think, that he's won the kitty Lotto.
So you have, little one.
Every day I'm so overwhelmed by all the bad news in the world. I volunteer locally, support my friends, try to show the people I love just how much I love them. But then I turn on the TV or pick up my phone, and things are worse than the last time I looked. It contributes to a constant backdrop of helplessness, as if nothing one does can possibly make the slightest difference. Sisyphus rolling his rock again and again.
And maybe I can't save the world. Maybe none of us can.
But I can save a kitten.