After the Bridge Pedal, but actually before, starting last week, we had a little visitor at our house. It started during the time the roofers were at our place. The meowing. The tiny sounds from somewhere up on the hill behind our house.
We could see it. The tiny kitty. We also could definitely hear it. It tugged at the heart strings big time.
So we did what almost anyone would do… we started feeding it. We hoped we could eventually lure it to us, make friends with it, and then give it to someone. But first things first… the food. I stopped and got tuna and then some really cheap 9 Lives. That stuff is sort of nasty, but it’s stinky and cats love it. The kitty started eating. During the day it would hang around back there, where we could see it much of the time. At night it found little tunnels under the blackberry bushes and brambles where it would be hidden and somewhat safe from the coyotes in the area. Every morning we’d get up and go out to see if it was still there, still alive. We were appalled that someone had basically dumped this beautiful little creature out there in the first place. Who would do such a thing?
Finally, after about a week or so of trying, it came to Karen. Last Sunday actually, after the Bridge Pedal. It was amazing. This cat who’d avoided us was now Karen’s best friend. It wouldn’t leave her alone. It even let me pet it. It was playful, so cute, and very affectionate. The dogs, however, thought it was a moving play toy. Not good. We had to do something.
In steps Maggie… our lovely friend with a big heart who was wanting to get a cat or dog or both. We called Maggie… and Maggie heeded the call. She said yes. So Monday, this week, we bought some toys for the little tyke, packed up a little backpack pet carrier we had, and headed for Maggie’s place with the kitty.
We didn’t know what sex it was, or how old, or what kind. We didn’t know if it was healthy or not, even though it looked like it was fairly healthy. We did know it was skinny from not getting a lot of food before we started feeding it. And we knew it was very loving and playful.
Maggie and Ollie, as it became known (Maggie wanted to name it either Olivia or Oliver depending on the sex), hit it off immediately.
Now, a few days later, Olivia has been to the doctor and gotten a clean bill of health, some flea meds, a good ear cleaning, and an estimate of 8-9 weeks old. We figure she was about 6 weeks old when someone abandoned her. It’s amazing she survived. What a little fighter.
Maggie and Olivia are getting to know each other, working out the sleeping arrangements, and having a very fun time. A happy ending to what could have been a scary story. Olivia is adorable, beautiful, loved, and alive.